A Propensity For Wrath
by becuzitswrong
Summary: Summary: Taylor triggers with a different power. With the ability to see the auras of those around her, as well as to imbue items with her own emotions, Taylor's life takes a different direction.
1. Chapter One: The Beginning

**A Propensity for Wrath**

 **by becuzitswrong**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Worm. That belongs to Wildbow.

 **Summary:** Taylor triggers with a different power. With the ability to see the auras of those around her, as well as to imbue items with her own emotions, Taylor's life takes a different direction.

 **ARC I: ANGER**

 **Chapter One: The Beginning**

Taylor vomited all over herself, adding to the reeking mess in her locker. The stench was suffocating and for a moment, she just couldn't breath. When she was finally able to take a lungful of air, Taylor was unable to control her gag reflex. Soon, more vomit joined the rest decorating herself and her prison.

How she'd arrived in her current accommodations was no mystery. Emma Barnes, her former best friend, along with Madison Clements and Sophia Hess were responsible. Taylor was certain it had been Sophia who had forced her into the locker once she'd opened it if for no other reason than she'd had the other two in view right before it happened.

Banging as hard on the metal inside of her locker as she could, Taylor screamed, "Let me out! Please, Emma, help me! Please!"

Despite all of her pleas for aid, none came. Not that Taylor had truly expected any. Still, it took time, even if only the half hour that passed, for her to lose all hope. Finally, she truly understood that no one was coming to save her. None of the other students cared enough to risk getting on the wrong side of her trio of bullies. No one was coming to her aid. She'd be in here until a teacher or one of the school custodians found her.

The only problem was that Taylor didn't know if she'd survive that long. Or maybe survive was the wrong term for what she'd feared would happen. After all, it wasn't as if spending time in a small metal box, even if it was filled with the most foul and disgusting mess she'd ever encountered was actually life threatening.

No, Taylor wouldn't be suffering from starvation or dehydration any time in the next few hours. Instead, what she truly feared was going insane, losing her grasp upon reality utterly as her damaged mind fled the pain of betrayal, of friendship lost, of knowing that no one really cared enough about her to lift a finger to help.

Taylor shivered as she managed to stop dry heaving long enough to consider that. It was true. No one cared about her. Not even her dad cared enough to figure out that things at school were going so very wrong. Slowly, tears began to stream down Taylor's cheeks as the girl considered her current life.

Oh, maybe Danny Hebert knew that Taylor wasn't the bright sunny girl she'd been when she was younger. But he'd never cottoned onto what was happening to her every day at school. That Emma and she were no longer friends. That Taylor was now creeping through life doing her best to stay hidden, unnoticed, as if to escape the notice of not just her bullies, but of anyone else who might have a chance to get close enough to betray her.

Her fingers trembled as she restrained herself from beating again upon the uncaring metal of the locker door. It would do no good and would only cause her more pain. Instead, Taylor focused inwards, as if to somehow reach a place where she would finally be safe. A place where no one would ever hurt her again.

After a time, Taylor's tears dried. A little longer, and she'd stopped paying attention to the things in the filth surrounding her that occasionally bit her. Finally, Taylor refused see anything around her but the darkness. Finally, she was at peace. Finally, she was safe. It was at moment that she noticed something mindbogglingly. Two huge creatures twisting around one another in space. Somehow, there was communication between them.

Destination.

Agreement.

Trajectory.

Confide-

NO.

Taylor shivered as a different voice, as alien as the others, assaulted her ears. For a moment, blinding light filled her eyes as she felt like she was being torn apart. For a moment...

The locker door opened. Another kind of light filled Taylor's eyes as she fell sideways onto the floor, covered with filth. Blinking against the glare, she opened her mouth. A moment later, Taylor Hebert began screaming.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor woke up with a scream on her lips as her dream of once again being stuffed into the locker by Sophia Hess slowly faded away with her awakening. She slowly sat up, shivering as the room's cool air caressed her sweaty form. Four days had passed since she'd been released from the locker. Four days spent almost exclusively in a hospital bed, 'resting' as the doctors put it.

As Taylor sat there in bed, she felt restless. As if there was something she needed to do, needed to accomplish to allow her to finally relax. Taylor picked up the plastic reach extender that she'd gotten as a gift from Kurt, a friend of her dad's from the docks. He was the last person she would have expected to notice her dropping the TV remote and being unable to retrieve. But not only had he noticed her struggles, he'd come up something that should keep it from happening again. Almost proof that there were still good people out there Taylor thought.

As she rolled the long, slender instrument between her fingertips, Taylor shivered again. This time it wasn't the cold that caused her discomfort. No, now she was feeling... odd. Weird. Strange. _Angry._ Every one of the adjectives applied.

Sophia Hess.

Taylor's brown eyes darkened as she considered the person who was her greatest enemy. If Emma had been one of the architects of the plan that had resulted in her being inside of that locker, it had still been Sophia who had carried it out. Sophia who had used her greater strength to force Taylor into the mess and filth within. Sophia who had almost driven her mad inside the darkness.

For just a moment, a memory as distant as the sun and moon stirred. There was... something about the locker that she should remember. Something... With a shiver, Taylor retreated away from those ever hazier images. She didn't want to dwell upon whatever had happened within the locker. No, it was better to concentrate upon her enemy, Sophia Hess, and the mess she'd helped make of Taylor's life.

A beautiful, confidant, and athletic girl, Sophia Hess seemed good at everything, from making friends to running track. Certainly she was good at bullying one Taylor Hebert. Of stealing her one and only true friend. Although, how true had Emma really been if she could so easily dismiss so many years of friendship? Now, Taylor was alone, and the person who had caused that solitude was probably even now walking around, laughing and smiling as she enjoyed her life just a little more knowing she'd caused misery within another's.

Taylor's breath was coming faster as she became more and more agitated while dwelling on Sophia Hess. Rapid pants seemed to steal the oxygen from her lungs. Trying to control her breathing, Taylor focused more of her attention upon her feelings. If she were being completely honest, she was _angry_. So incredibly angry that the person who had done so much to her was again getting off without so much as a slap on the wrist.

Earlier that day, Taylor had learned from an equally angry Danny Hebert that it was her word against that of her bullies as to who had done what to whom. And her word was mud even before the locker incident. Now... well, suffice it to say, no one would be basing any disciplinary actions upon anything Taylor said. She'd had some kind psychotic break after the locker, making her seem even less credible. It was yet another thing she didn't want to think about.

All because of Sophia Hess. Taylor's jaw clenched as something that seemed equal parts hate and rage tore through her breast. That damned bitch was ruining her life and no one was willing to believe her! To help her. To _save_ her.

Once she got out of the hospital, Taylor needed to do something about Sophia Hess. Her mind shied away from the thought of what she really wanted to do, but then, like a skittish animal, it circled back around to take another look. Taylor wanted... she wanted... If she could do anything to Sophia that her heart desired, she would...

A low pained groan tore itself from Taylor's throat as she rejected the terrible dark thoughts plaguing her consciousness. Rejected them utterly. She couldn't lower herself to their level. She was better than that. She wouldn't really...

Would she? Taylor envisioned a world with Sophia and once again hate and rage crashed against the walls of her certainty. A world without Sophia would be a wonderful place indeed.

No! That wasn't her. It was not who Taylor Hebert was. She wouldn't...

Taylor wrestled with those dark appetites as if they were physical foes. As her ever increasingly twisted and shadowy thoughts tormented her, she finally couldn't take the negative emotions they generated anymore. After a time, Taylor managed to grasp them tightly, and somehow, she hurled them away from her.

Those terrifying thoughts of hate, rage, and death were somehow thrust into the closest available target. In this case, it was the simple reach extender that she held in her hands. An object that had been changed by its consignment of hostile emotions.

Instead of a long, thin piece of plastic, Taylor now held an object of malevolence in her hands. With great difficulty, she somehow kept herself from hurling it away. Instinctively, Taylor knew that would be a _very_ bad idea. It was as if, once out of her hands, there would be no controlling what the thing might do. Who it might harm.

Because whatever the reach extender had become most resembled a weapon. Looking almost like a long bladed knife now, the area where the blade should be pulsed with a blackness darker than night and reeked of death and decay. Staring down at it, Taylor blinked as she wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her. The 'blade' almost looked as if it ate the light that touched it. It looked more like a wound in the world than an actual physical object.

Now it sat, it's handle slick, gray, and greasy against the skin of her palm. Taylor shivered in revulsion just to touch the least part of this disgusting thing, as if she'd never be clean again. As bad as the handle was, what rested next to it was far worse. There was no way on earth Taylor would ever willingly touch the surface of that blade. Ever.

Because Taylor recognized something else about her horrible creation. Something she instinctively understood. Utter and complete hatred was an essential component of the object that she tentatively held in her hands. Taylor's hatred for Sophia Hess. Her hatred and desire for Sophia's death.

How was any of this possible? Taylor's thoughts were utter chaos as she almost hyperventilated. Had she somehow taken her thoughts and emotions and passed them off into this... thing? Was this somehow linked to the odd sights she'd seen earlier, the... colors?

She needed to get control of herself. Taylor struggled with her breathing, something that was oddly easier now than it had been before she created the thing.

Certainly, now Taylor felt lighter. It was as if some great burden had been lifted from her soul. Even if the result was the abomination that lightly rested in her grasp, Taylor felt that the final result was a net gain. Of course, now she just had to figure out a way to hide the... knife, until such time as she was released from the hospital.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"Here you go, kiddo."

Taylor nodded her thanks to her dad as he carefully helped her out of the car. It was two days later and she was finally out of the hospital. Taylor tottered like an elderly person after the six days spent mostly in bed, while she'd been poked and prodded, her sanity questioned by far too many people. Now she was back home at last. Hopefully, she'd improve more here than she'd done in the hospital.

"Let me help you."

"Thanks, Dad," Taylor said, as she took ahold of the offered arm, and used it to brace herself. Her legs were the worst part of her injuries. Apparently there'd been some type of poisonous insect in the biological waste into which she'd been thrust, which had bitten her several times.

The result had been that Taylor's legs still felt a little weak and she was more than a bit unsteady walking around. Still, she'd been given what the doctors assured her and her dad was the appropriate anti-venom and was expected to make a full recovery.

More concerning to the doctors had been Taylor's mental state. Unless sedated, she'd screamed incessantly for the first twenty-four hours after she'd been admitted. When she'd finally stopped, she hadn't spoken for another two. Finally, early on the morning of the fourth day, Taylor had awoken feeling relatively normal, with no memory of what had happened to her after she'd been put into the locker.

It was strange not remembering that experience. Well, not remembering it except in nightmares. How weird was Taylor that she more easily remembered her nightmares than the events that caused them? She couldn't help the shiver that ran up her spine at the question. Unfortunately, the answer was very weird.

Taylor's gloomy thoughts were interrupted as they had finally reached the steps leading up to the front porch. Negotiating the rotted first step took a moment, but she managed with her dad's help. Danny seemed extra solicitous as he opened the door for her and helped her over to the couch. Once seated, Taylor watched as her dad twisted his hands together as though he wanted to do something further for her.

Deciding to help to him out, Taylor spoke, "Dad, would you make me a cup of tea? You know the kind I like."

For the first time since she'd gotten into the car, her dad smiled. In a reassuring tone, Danny said, "Certainly, kiddo. I'll put the kettle on and make us both a cup. Would like anything else to go with it? Maybe a few cookies?"

Taylor gave him a quick nod as he waited, then watched as he walked away. Her dad looked just a little less gray to her now, his blues just a tiny bit stronger. Somehow, she needed to help him.

Taylor chewed her lip as she considered the things she'd figured out over the last two days. When she'd woken up the morning of the fourth day, she'd been coherent and sane. Still, it had taken her a while to figure out that she wasn't actually crazy.

Not only had the doctors' questions been intrusive and borderline insulting, but Taylor hadn't been able to trust the things her eyes were seeing. Whereas before, she'd always seen just fine, even if she did have to wear glasses, now she was seeing something really weird. Every person she saw was a mass of coruscating colors.

That first day, Taylor saw a lot of blues, greens, and yellows in the hospital workers who came and went around her, performing their jobs. She also saw quite a few reds, oranges, and grays. Thank goodness she hadn't told anyone else about the colors she saw or she was quite certain she'd _still_ be in the hospital undergoing yet another battery of psych tests.

Instead, Taylor had kept what she saw to herself as she tried to make sense of the things she was seeing. After a time, her observations had allowed her to tentatively decide that the colors seemed to correspond to the emotional state of the person.

It had been Nurse Nancy who had been a fundamental key to her understanding of what was happening. She'd been assigned to take care of Taylor and went about it with an effervescent cheerfulness. The woman was just so bubbly and friendly, making Taylor feel extremely comfortable around her. Equally as sunny as her disposition had been her colors, a strong mix of bright yellows and pinks overlaying warm blues and verdant greens.

Taylor had thought that shade of yellow seemed to mean friendly and maybe outgoing, but she wasn't sure about the pink. Not until she'd seen Nurse Nancy around the young doctor who had been in charge of treating the bites on her legs. Suddenly, the pinks had strengthened tremendously, totally dominating the nurse's color, while her manner had become more than a little flirtatious. So Taylor had figured out that pink meant passion, or perhaps love.

Taylor had also attributed the greens to healing as almost all of the hospital staff that she interacted with had them. Blues, on the other hand, seemed to be warmth, or maybe caring for another human being. Or perhaps even protectiveness. Unfortunately, Taylor didn't have quite enough examples of actions to tie an emotion directly to that color.

There had been many more examples of colors and actions that had furthered Taylor's understanding of her powers. Because that was exactly what they had to be. Taylor Hebert had become a Parahuman and now she had _powers_.

Taylor knew that if she could see herself, she'd probably be a little yellow right now as well, as a surge of joy went through her at the idea of her becoming a Parahuman. She didn't know if there was any use of the power she'd been given, but it did exist. Because of it, she was now special. A somebody, instead of the nobody she'd been the past year and a half.

Of course, if her powers made Taylor happy at the mere idea of them, she'd already seen there was a drawback. Because seeing the colors of the people around her and being able to judge their emotional states was only a part of what she could do. The other part, the part that had manifested the night before last, scared her breathless.

Taylor had ended up hiding the knife she'd made at the bottom of the bag her dad had brought her the day before under the ordinary clothing there. Still, its presence preyed upon her mind. During the remainder of Taylor's stay in the hospital, she constantly expected the knife to leap from her bag at any moment and proceed to kill everyone in the room. It felt that dark and evil to her.

Taylor's brooding was interrupted by Danny's return with snacks and tea. "Here you go, kiddo."

Taylor took a sip of her tea, then blew on it a bit after the first taste scalded her tongue. Its warmth seemed to thaw her chilled thoughts. From somewhere, she summoned a smile. "Thanks, Dad."

"Anything, kiddo." Danny's face fell as he spoke again, "You know I have to head back to work now that I've got you settled here at home, right? Especially since I've been out for the last six days. There's a great deal I need to catch up on if I'm going to keep the Union going."

Taylor nodded. "I understand. Don't worry about me. I'll just watch some TV. I don't plan to do anything that requires any form of exertion for the rest of the day. Okay?"

Danny smiled as he nodded. "Okay. I'll be back by six to make dinner. Call me if you need anything." He leaned down and kissed the top of Taylor's head before he headed back out the front door.

As Taylor listened to the sounds of her dad's car fading into the distance, she knew she needed to get some kind of handle on exactly what this strange ability she'd been given was capable of. So far, she'd seemingly been able to detect the emotional states of others around her displayed in the form of multitudes of colors. She wasn't always sure what all of the colors meant, but learning more about them was likely just a matter of trial and error.

Her second ability was... well, Taylor didn't really know. Had she somehow... imbued was the only word she could think of to describe what she'd done. Had Taylor somehow imbued that silly reach extender with her hatred and loathing for Sophia Hess? Equally important, how had doing do affected her own self?

Taylor had felt lighter and more rational after doing whatever she'd done. The intensity of the earlier emotions had been muted, as if she was viewing them from a distance, rather than feeling them directly. Still, just the thought of the loathsome black-bladed weapon that sat under her clothing in her bag made her feel queasy. She needed to do something about it immediately.

Carefully, Taylor reached out and grabbed her bag. Opening it, she slowly pulled out her clothing until she came to where the blade lay. Innocently lurking there on the bottom of her bag, its mere existence utterly repulsed her.

Just as Taylor remembered, the knife's blade seemed to pulse with a sickening darkness. Even in her well lit living room, it existed as a mere blot of darkness, as if did indeed consume whatever light fell upon it. The blade also throbbed as if to some silent heartbeat. Taylor did not want to touch the knife's blade, or even the handle. But even less did she want this upstairs with her in her own room, bag or no bag.

No, this needed to be exiled to the basement. Taylor used a shirt that she didn't really care about to wrap around the handle so she didn't have to touch it directly. Struggling to her feet, she slowly tottered towards the door to the basement, carrying the blade.

The next few minutes were a nightmare as Taylor nearly fell down the stairs twice. But finally, the black blade had a new home in her coal chute, still wrapped in her old shirt. Imprisoned by the metal of the chute, it no longer preyed so intensely upon her mind. Still, somewhere in the back of her head, she could still feel it. But only a little. Despite the difficulty of the trip back upstairs, Taylor's soul felt infinitely lighter when she plopped back down onto the couch.


	2. Chapter Two: Discoveries

**Chapter Two: Discoveries**

Taylor sat at the dining room table chatting with her dad. It had been two weeks since she'd gotten out of the hospital. Two weeks in which she hadn't needed to return to school, although tomorrow would be a different matter.

"So, kiddo, what did you get up to today besides fixing dinner?"

Taylor smiled in satisfaction at her father's affectionate tone. His earlier grays and washed out greens had slowly turned more yellow and blue as his guilt and anguish had been gradually been alleviated. Taylor had done as much as possible to help him, ranging from long talks about dealing with the bullying to little gestures of affection. It seemed as if Danny was finally coming out of the two and a half year winter that he'd experienced since her mom's death.

"Not much, Dad. Just vegged around. Watched a little TV. I did do a little homework as well."

Danny's expression grew solemn. "I need to tell you something. I don't want to upset you, though."

Taylor had known this was coming. They needed money to pay for her hospital stay and that was all the school was offering to do in return for their silence on what exactly had happened that day by her locker. They couldn't afford to sue the school, even if Taylor had been an unimpeachable witness. The odds of the two of them winning a lawsuit were slim to nil with the deep pockets of Alan Barnes among others opposing them.

Encouragingly, Taylor said, "Just tell me, Dad. I won't get upset."

Danny sighed, then spoke, "I signed the papers today. The school's paying for your hospital bills and a bit more for new books and replacement clothing. Nothing else, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, Taylor."

Taylor got up and quickly hugged her dad. Feeling the tentatively way Danny's arms hugged her back before finally gripping her tightly, she knew she had more damage to repair as regards their relationship. For now, she was just going to love him. Keeping that image in mind for later, Taylor squeezed him a little harder before letting go.

Sitting back down, Taylor shrugged. "We both knew what the situation was going to be. I'm not worried about it."

Danny's face bore an earnest expression as he said, "I wish I had known earlier about what Emma and those other girls were doing to you..." His voice trailed off as his colors faded towards the muted grays of guilt

Taylor had finally told her dad everything that had happened to her over the last year and a half since entering high school. He'd alternatively raged and expressed his regret, but ultimately, it had been a very healing discussion. Of course, the reds he'd achieved had been both awe inspiring and frightening, but none of that anger had been aimed at Taylor, so she didn't let it bother her. That was just her dad.

In an encouraging tone, Taylor said, "It probably wouldn't have made any difference, but I wish I had told you earlier. Just talking to you about it makes me feel better."

Taylor grinned as her dad took her hand and gave it a squeeze. Yes, Danny was definitely getting better. In so many ways, she wished she could work her own magic upon herself, but so far, no dice. No, Taylor hadn't been able to see the colors on herself in the same way she saw the colors of the people around her. It would have been nice, as she could have worked on solving her problems using her powers. A tweak here, and a change there, and maybe a bright, shiny new Taylor Hebert would have emerged from the chaos. Then again, maybe not, as she remembered the blade.

Instead, the only thing that had helped her had been bringing her various emotions to the surface and pushing them out into items. Items that now... Taylor shied away from thinking about them for now, all too aware of just how frightening some of the things she'd made were, even to herself.

For now, she was just going to bask in time spent with her dad.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Later that evening, after her dad had gone to bed, Taylor sat on her bed, staring at the huge lid to the pot that her dad had bought years ago and used exactly once, for a crawfish boil. That had been a fun event, as her parents had been surrounded by all of their friends from the Union and the University, while she had had Emma there. Her once upon a time friend.

Taylor sighed. She needed to avoid thinking about negative things if she was going to make this work. Instead, she put all of her attention onto the object in her hands, struggling to understand it. The lid was over two and a half feet in diameter and should make the perfect template for a shield, or so she hoped. The metal was surprising thick, of a quality that you seldom saw in today's cookware. Carefully, Taylor turned it over and over in her hands, examining every last part of it, until it held no surprises.

Taylor slid her hand into the lid's handle and carried it like a shield, slowly raising and lowering it, as she imagined blocking blows with it. The visualization part was perhaps the second most important part of the entire process. Now onto the most important part. Carefully, Taylor pulled the memory of earlier with her dad to the forefront of her mind. She remembered exactly how she'd felt when she'd hugged him. Her love for him. Their mutual protectiveness. All of her attention was focused upon that one memory to exclusion of everything else around her.

With all of that emotion brimming within her, Taylor _pushed_ it away from her, out into the lid on her arm. There was a smell almost like ozone in the air, something now becoming familiar, as the lid she held in her hand _changed_.

With a growing sense of satisfaction, Taylor examined the new object that adorned her arm. Where before, she'd held a large, metal lid, now a curved, glowing blue shield, complete with a second strap for her forearm, rested there. The glow from her new shield was actually the brightest of all the items of that hue that Taylor had made so far. It was also incredibly light, feeling nearly weightless hanging upon her arm as she tentatively swung it back and forth.

Over the past two weeks, Taylor had discovered a great deal about the items she'd imbued. First, only positive emotions of love, affection, friendship, and protectiveness could create a 'blue' item. Blue meant protection.

Second, it was far easier for her to create items imbued with negative emotions than positive. Especially when the negative emotion was anger. Case in point, Taylor had literally dozens of items ranging from rings to a sword to the round circular objects that functioned like grenades that all glowed a blazing crimson.

Red was the color of rage. Of wrath, if you wanted your explanation Old Testament. Taylor knew she had plenty of wrath to go around. So far, it had proven far too easy to bring it to the surface and push it into any of the several dozen objects she'd imbued. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to reduce the well from which it spawned.

Red items carried a pure force, like a cross between electricity and telekinesis, that stunned and injured others. Taylor had used a weak one, one that _barely_ glowed red, upon herself. When triggered, it had knocked her backwards onto the couch and she'd spent half the day insensate because of it.

Everything, from the rings, to the sword, to the tennis balls, (which no longer resembled something to be used to play a game) that now had a red glow, acted as weapons. Taylor figured she could use them to subdue crooks and battle villains when she later went out as a hero.

Certainly, the sword would be useful as it would allow Taylor to knock down anyone she hit using the flat of the blade unless they were a high level Brute. Even with brutes, she'd need to take care as the edge was scarily sharp. She'd have to be equally careful using even just the flat of the blade against normal humans as a hard blow from it could easily snap a two by four piece of lumber. Most bones would likely be even easier to break. Such was the power of her glowing crimson weapons.

It had turned out to be frighteningly easy to push wrath into any item she held in her hands, even unintentionally. Taylor still needed to find out what had happened when she pushed tried to imbue a ring with blue, as her last attempt had resulted in a lapse in concentration as anger overwhelmed her. Instead of a glowing blue device that might heal, she'd turned the ring a bright pulsing red with a charge that was intense enough to allow her to shatter concrete with one blow. Scary stuff indeed.

Another thing Taylor had discovered was that black items were created by hatred. Utter, complete, and unforgiving hate. Black was the color of hatred and it carried death along with it. Taylor had figured that if she ever used a black item on a person, it would likely kill the recipient of the attack. Of course, she'd already decided that it would be a cold day in Hell before that happened. No matter what, she was never going to kill another human being. She was better than that.

The next thing that Taylor had figured out was that if she was feeling strong sadness or anguish, the resulting object would come out a sickly glowing yellow. Feeling greasy and unclean, even though not as much as a 'black' item, the bilious yellow items seemed to exude nausea. When triggered, they made the recipient of the attack violently ill for an extended period of time. Even better, some of them could be used to hit a single foe, while others acted over a small area to hit an entire group.

Certainly the round yellow one Taylor had used upon herself had made her vomit for half an hour after she'd triggered it by tossing it onto the floor at her own feet. The strange yellowish explosion, felt more than seen or heard, had pulsed throughout the entire room and into Taylor herself. The nausea she'd experienced from it seemed as if it would be effective against small groups of foes. On the other hand, the baseball bat Taylor had pushed so much yellow emotion into that it pulsed in a truly sickening manner, was definitely a melee weapon for one on one combat. Cracking someone alongside the head with an object that would make them spew for at least half an hour seemed an effective method of subduing criminals.

The fifth thing that Taylor had discovered was that objects stayed within a certain range of shapes similar to, although not completely identical with, their initial one upon being imbued with an emotion. So the plastic reach extender had become a long knife. While the large butcher knife Taylor had poured endless volumes of her rage into last week had lengthened into a long sword, crimson glowing and deadly. Additionally, all of her items seemed to be made out of the some kind of slick, glass-like stone that appeared unbreakable. Each item seemed to formed of that same material, even the knife of hate, although Taylor would never touch the blade to find out for sure.

Oddly, the rings that Taylor had poured so much anger into stayed rings. Although, whatever their starting material, they, too, ended up made of an entirely different substance that looked and felt like the same glass-slick stone as the rest. The tennis balls when imbued had also stayed small and round, although they no longer bounced and felt completely solid. They, too, were composed of the same basic stuff as everything else. Which meant that her red and yellow balls were some kind of little, slick stone grenades. Although, they didn't seem to explode so much as erupt, as if they were just putting out a larger pulse than usual. Plus, Taylor didn't know of any grenades that lit up, throbbing and pulsing to some unknown rhythm.

Clothing, on the other hand, imbued with positive emotions and with the right visualization, became glowing blue armored garments. At the beginning of the week, Taylor had poured her love and utter protectiveness for her dad into an old jacket she'd been holding. Afterwards, the cotton fabric had become some kind of slick, dark gray material whose smooth, glossy feel was surprisingly similar to the other items that Taylor had made.

While initially, the texture was more like plastic, soft and pliable, when a force was applied to it, like the sledgehammer Taylor had used to test its durability, it became as hard and unyielding as steel and felt exactly like everything else she'd made. Still, even more than its durability, the fact that it did not allow a force exerted to its surface to affect whatever was beneath made it ideal for a costume. Weirdly, the material faintly felt warm to the touch, almost as if it were alive, even though Taylor was quite certain it was not.

Unfortunately, Taylor had no real idea just how tough the material was. While _she_ couldn't damage it, that didn't mean that another cape's attack wouldn't. She also wondered if the material was bulletproof. Certainly she'd been unable to cut or pierce it with a knife, or with the hammer and nail she'd used.

It was while testing the materials durability that Taylor had discovered that it protected whoever was wearing it against the force behind blows. She'd been holding the jacket in place with one hand while pounding on it with a hammer in the other. Taylor had hit it three or four times before she realized that her fingers were in the area that she was hammering on, covered only by the jacket's sleeve. Later, Taylor had used bigger hammers and far more force, none of which she'd felt protected within the former jacket. Not even the sledge hammer that she had awkwardly used, swinging it one-handed while gripping it near the head had so much as bruised her. Afterwards, the only thing that made Taylor smile more than being so ably protected by her new discovery had been being able to make more of the suit pieces for her future costume.

Over the past two weeks, Taylor had slowly accrued a growing set of imbued garments that she would later use as her costume when she became a hero. So far, all she was lacking were gloves and boots, as she'd managed the jacket, helm, and pants, and, of course, today, a shield.

Taylor didn't miss the old faded jeans that had become her suit pants. Or even the second pair she'd had to use when she'd failed the first time, turning those yellow. Plus, her dad wouldn't miss the positively ancient motorcycle helmet she'd found on a high shelf in the basement that had become her helm. Although the huge spider inside that had almost scared her to death when she'd moved it might.

It was actually a little odd how the helm had come out. Initially, Taylor had thought she hadn't done a good enough job of visualizing what she'd wanted as the helm was one solid piece without the eye slit and open mouth piece to allow her to see and breath respectively. However, when she'd put the helm on, she had found that she see through the seemingly solid material of the visor with it correcting her nearsightedness automatically. Even better, she could easily breath even though the area beneath her chin melded seamlessly to the collar of her suit jacket, as if the material was at least semi-permeable to air. Later, Taylor wanted to test whether her helm also filtered the air she breathed, but that was a project she'd work on at some later date.

The sixth thing that Taylor had discovered about her power was that the objects that she imbued were incredible easy to throw. Although, when thrown, they did seem to violate the laws of physics in the manner of their flight. Taylor had learned this when she was testing how far she could throw a former tennis ball that was now a glowing yellow stone grenade.

Since the resulting object was hard and slick, almost like a glass pool ball, although with the same foul, greasy coating of all of her yellow objects, Taylor had been concerned about just how well she be able to throw it. How far it would go. After all, she wasn't exactly a star athlete. However, when Taylor went to throw the small ball, she hadn't tossed it fifty, or even a hundred feet.

Instead, it had sailed on, as if gravity had no grasp upon it, for over a hundred yard before it slammed into a tree and released it disgusting payload in a bilious flash. After the flash, it had immediately fallen to the ground as if whatever kept it aloft was exhausted. Taylor had also felt that flash, almost as if she'd set it off herself. Which lead to the next thing she'd discovered.

Taylor could trigger any of the items she had imbued remotely. The hundred yards of her yellow ball hadn't even truly tested her ability. Basically, so long as she could feel the item, she could trigger it. From taking a few trips to the library aboard a city bus, Taylor had roughly figured that her ability to feel the things she made faded at around two miles, more or less. It also explained how she could still feel her knife of hate, even when it was enclosed entirely within the metal of the coal chute.

It also meant that if Taylor could get close with one of her 'grenades', she could still hit the target she was aiming for with the area of effect of the... She wasn't sure if she should call it an explosion, but whatever it actually was, she could use the its area of effect to hit any enemy she could get it close to. Having a range attack would be incredibly useful as a hero even if watching one of her red 'grenades' drop out of the sky as soon as it was triggered looked really weird. It was as if whatever allowed her items to ignore gravity disappeared with the pulsing colors that imbued them, although they slowly regained their glow.

That was the last thing Taylor had learned so far was the items she imbued. When discharged, they slowly recharged themselves so long as they were near her. That applied whether the items in question were her 'grenades', her glowing red sword and knives, or the rings she could wear on her fingers. Once used, they quickly regained their 'glow', the speed being determined by how close to her they were.

Carrying them upon her seemed to result in a recharge rate of a few seconds, perhaps five to ten, depending upon the strength of the initial glow. On the other hand, when she'd left to go to the library, the ring Taylor had discharged earlier and left sitting on her bedside table still hadn't completely recharged by the time she got home four hours later. It had begun to regain some of its red glow, but hadn't been nearly as bright as before.

It had been a lot to get a grip on and Taylor was certain she still didn't know everything about what she could do. Of course now that she had to return to school, she wouldn't have all day to experiment with her powers so her knowledge base would likely increase far slower. Still, she was counting down the days until she could go out and be a hero.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"Well, well, look who's back. I thought I smelled something rancid in the air." Emma's catty voice carried over to Taylor where she stood next to the new locker that had been assigned to her.

Not that Taylor was planning to use it to store anything. If experience had taught her nothing else, she knew that putting anything inside was an invitation for theft or vandalism.

She glanced at Emma, then gave her another, longer look. Emma was an strange combination of greens and reds with a few streaks of purple. Taylor had no idea what to make of the odd mixture. Every color seemed to belong to the shades that she associated with illness or emotional problems. Not what Taylor had expected from Emma, truth be told.

Shaking her head, Taylor dismissed the other girl as unimportant. Still, as she walked along, comments from other voices drifted to her ears.

"Why did she come back?"

"Doesn't she know no one likes her?"

"What a nerd. Does she even know what a date is?"

"She's ugly and smells. No boy would touch her."

"I heard she gives it up to the Merchants for drugs."

"She's so stupid she'll probably fail and never leave until they kick her out."

Taylor ignored the various insults from Emma's hangers on. Half of the comments contradicted the other half, the only thing in common being they were all demeaning and directed at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of Mr Gladly walking by, once again turning a blind eye to her situation. There was a faint, lingering bitterness as she considered the popular teacher who cultivated that popularity by giving certain students far too much leeway in their behavior.

Leaving Emma and her clique behind, Taylor headed towards home room.

Mrs Knott had assigned a simple recursive program to count dots on a page, something which Taylor knocked out within the first fifteen minutes. Fortunately, she did have not any work to make up in Computer Class because of the three weeks she'd missed as she'd been working well ahead. Taylor's other classes were another story, but she'd worry about them when she got there.

Taylor immediately used the remaining time to check out Parahumans Online. She went ahead and took a moment to create an account on PHO in case she decided to post to any of the threads there.

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 **Topic: Trigger events?  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)  
Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on December 2nd, 2010:

While we don't really know how people get powers, it's got to be because of a traumatic experience, the so-called trigger event. However, getting anyone to talk about it is like pulling teeth. If there's a cape who wants to share about his or her experience of triggering, I encourage them to do so here.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

OMG I want powers! I'd love to hear any and all stories about how everyone got powers!

 **► Chrome**  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

That is exactly the kind of post that will make sure no one out there shares their stories. And get this thread shut down.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on December 2nd, 2010:

Agreed. Keep out unless you have something relevant to share, people. And that goes twice for you, **XxVoid_CowboyxX.**

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

*Sulks*

 **► Vista** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

Uh uh. Not saying a word about this.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on December 2nd, 2010:

We understand, Vista, if you do not want to share your experience. The purpose of this thread is just to help deepen the understanding of how people get powers.

 **► Glory Girl** (Verified Cape) (New Wave)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

I got fouled while playing basketball. Wasn't any big.

 **► White Fairy** (Veteran Member)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

Glory Girl aside, I think most people who have trigger events are not going to share. I'm not against this thread per se, but I don't think it'll get anyone to open up. So it's basically useless.

 **► HotterThanYou** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

 ** **Post deleted.**** **User received an infraction for this post: 1) Do not claim Parahuman status if you are a NOT a Parahuman. 2) Naming Wards and other members of the Protectorate as part of sexual fantasies is against the rules. Welcome to the first day of your** **30** **day suspension.**

 **► Clockblocker** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Replied on December 2nd, 2010:

at **HotterThanYou** I don't even know what to say to that. Seriously, just eww. As far as the rest of this thread goes, I agree with White Fairy. I won't be sharing and I don't know another cape other than Glory Girl who would. Trigger events are personal things, often the worst day of your life. Not something you want out there for public consumption. The end.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4** **,** **5** **…** **23** **,** **24** **,** **25**

Taylor sat back with a sigh. There was far too much posturing and misinformation about Parahumans in general on PHO to be helpful. About the only thing she'd managed to get out of the previous thread was that Parahumans received their abilities from trigger events. Additionally, trigger events seemed to be traumatic times in a person's life.

Certainly, her own 'worst day', which wasn't really, had been bad enough. Taylor understood why other Parahumans did not want to talk about theirs.

Taylor spent the rest of the period browsing PHO looking for anything interesting, but other than a thread started by someone named AllSeeingEye, she didn't really find anything useful. That thread at least gave her a small amount of information about a couple of the villains of Brockton Bay. Absently, Taylor jotted down a few notes for her files. Eventually, she wanted dossiers on every Parahuman, either hero or villain, so to be as informed as possible when she went out as a hero.

Gathering up her books once the bell rang, Taylor could feel tension suffusing her body. Unfortunately, her next class was World Affairs taught by Mr Gladly, the aforementioned 'popular' teacher.

She got into class early for once, although a smirking Madison still beat her there. Ignoring her usual seat which was covered in orange soda, Taylor sat near the front of class as far from her tormentor as possible.

Not that it did her much good as over the next hour Madison still somehow managed to hit her (or convince others to) with at least five spitballs. Combing them out of her long curly hair was a gross job, but it'd be even worse to let them stay there.

The class itself was boring as any talk about Parahumans and their effect upon world affairs was still months away. For now, they focused on significant events of the 19th century, which in her opinion, wasn't exactly the most fascinating time in human history.

The only vaguely interesting thing that happened in class was being able to examine Madison's colors. Her... Taylor was just going to bite the bullet and go ahead and call it an aura. Madison's _aura_ was mostly dull oranges, yellows, and golds. There was hardly any other color to her, certainly no red, or anything bright, which would indicate that she herself wasn't angry or especially emotional. Come to think of it, it jibed with Taylor's own thoughts of the girl, which was that she was mostly a follower (and a bit of a cold fish).

Immediately after class, Taylor headed out the door and made her way through the halls, making no special effort to avoid the Trio. Surprisingly enough, she felt very little of the trepidation or worry she usually experienced when thinking about her tormentors. Instead, when Taylor felt emotion at all, it was mostly irritation at just how _juvenile_ their behavior had become.

Lunch had her sitting outside, once again eating alone. Halfway through, a couple of the girls who usually followed Emma around walked up to where she was sitting. They immediately started in.

"I don't know why she sits where people can see her."

"I know, right? Who wants to see a scrag like her?"

More, similar, comments followed the first couple. Ordinarily, Taylor would have either ignored them or walked off to get away from them. Today, to her surprise, she found herself getting increasingly angry. Finally after the fifth such exchange, Taylor got to her feet to confront the two girls.

"Why don't the two of you shut the hell up? No one wants to hear your grating, harpy voices."

Had she just said that? From the wide-eyed stares Taylor was getting, all three of the girls present were surprised by her comments, including the one who had just made them.

The first girl, who named was something like Taffy or Daffy, snarked, "You're the last one who should be talking about someone else's voice. Yours-"

Taylor deliberately invaded the other girl's space, almost colliding with her, as she interrupted her, "I meant what I said. Shut the hell up. I don't want to hear any more insults from you."

Staring straight into the other girl's eyes, Taylor was surprised to see her flinch slightly. Even more surprising, when the second girl started to speak, the first grabbed her arm, saying, "Let's go."

As the two of them walked off, Taylor could hear the second girl arguing with her friend, "But Daphne, why don't you want to keep picking on Hebert? What's going on?"

"Just let it go, Jenny! I don't want to talk about..."

Taylor shrugged as the voices faded into the distance. Who was she to question a lucky break? Especially when it had been a while since she'd had one.

The remainder of Taylor's school day was relatively uneventful except for one minor confrontation with Sophia. At least it seemed minor to her at the time.

Taylor had just finished her last class of the day and was heading towards the exit. However, lingering in her path was Sophia Hess. As Taylor began to walk by, the athletic black girl gave her a shoulder check, almost knocking her down.

Taylor easily recovered and immediately snarked, "Just how clumsy are you, Hess?" She wasn't sure what surprised her more, what she'd just said, or that she wasn't worried about saying it. It was... odd.

Sophia spun around and snarled, "What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?" The black girl's aura was awash in mostly primary colors, ranging from hard, bright reds, to even darker greens and purples. She also the odd streak of black, something which Taylor had only seen in certain gang members up to this point. It wasn't a good mix and through Taylor's special sight, it screamed 'predator' and 'dangerous'.

Not that Taylor cared as she rolled her eyes as she stared back at the other girl. She was feeling too intensely irritated right then at the other girl's deliberate obtuseness. "You heard me. Why don't you look where you're going? Or are you just that clumsy?"

Sophia started towards her, reds steadily darkening, but stopped when an adult male voice behind her called out, "Hurry up, Hess! You should already be at the practice field by now. You're going to be running four laps for being late. Get a move on!"

Sophia hissed out between her teeth. "This isn't over, Hebert." With that, she turned on her heel and headed off. Although, by her colors, she would have much rather been punching Taylor in the face.

Taylor merely rolled her eyes again at the other girl's back. "Whatever."

Turning around, Taylor walked out of the school towards her bus stop. For just a moment, she wondered why she'd decided to confront Sophia today of all days. Then with sigh, she dismissed the thought. Taylor had far too much to do with figuring out additional applications for her abilities to worry about one annoying bully.

Fortunately, Taylor had the house to herself when she got home. Today, she was going to make another attempt at using a positive emotion on a ring. Heading up to her room, Taylor dug into a box of cheap costume jewelry consisting mostly of rings that she'd gotten over the years.

Taking a plain band of some cheap silver plated metal, Taylor slid it onto her forefinger. First, she visualized what she was trying to accomplish. 'I want a ring to heal myself with,' Taylor repeated over and over in her head.

After saying this to herself several times, Taylor then thought of the special breakfast Danny had made for her that morning to celebrate her full recovery and return to school. Closing her eyes, she focused upon the way she'd felt when her dad hugged her, then ruffled her hair right before the two of them sat down to eat. She could see the look in Danny's eyes as he grinned at her from across the table.

Eyes still close, Taylor smiled at the feelings of love and safety that infused her. Still completely focused, she pushed those feelings into the ring upon her finger. Without even looking, Taylor _knew_ she'd succeeded.

Opening her eyes, Taylor stared at the glowing green ring that decorated her forefinger. The glow was surprisingly strong, a verdant green that flickered along the band of the ring. Green. Taylor wanted to smack her head into a wall. Maybe that was why it had been so hard to make the ring? Well, she'd finallly succeeded in making one. Now she just had to figure out if it actually did what it was supposed to.

Taylor went downstairs and grabbed a small paring knife from the knife block on the kitchen counter. Taking great care, she made a shallow cut on the finger next to the one on which the ring sat. Then she waited. To her utter joy, within thirty seconds or so, the shallow cut closed and was gone.

She made another cut, a little deeper this time, on her forearm using the same knife. It too closed and disappeared without a trace, although this one took just over a minute.

Steeling herself, Taylor held her arm out over the sink, then cut the palm of her opposite hand deeply. As the shock and pain of the injury hit her, she merely waited, blinking away tears. Slowly, the pain began to fade as the wound closed, first becoming an angry red line, then a faded one, before finally disappearing completely from view.

The only trace of the wound was the small puddle of blood in the kitchen sink, which Taylor promptly washed down the drain. She now had a way to heal herself. Also, even when regenerating the worst of her wounds, the emerald glow of the ring had never dwindled, suggesting it might actually be able to heal far worse injuries than that one.

This was huge! One of the things that Taylor had considered might trip her up when she became a hero was any injuries that she might get as a result. Especially when she figured out that because of the true nature of her ability she'd primarily be a melee fighter. Oh, the thrown objects she could make were certainly going to come in handy, but it was the sword and other melee weapons Taylor had made that were going to allow her to act as a hero.

Even though Taylor thought her suit might protect her for the most part, but you could never be completely certain. Having a way to heal herself made things just that much less complicated. She couldn't help the tiny grin that teased the corners of her mouth as she considered just how successful her test had been.

She had so many more tests to conduct over the next few weeks. From seeing if her suit would protect her from the effects of her own yellow and red grenades to trying to change the effect that was currently on an object ie imbuing it with a different emotion and subsequent effect, Taylor was going have her hands full.

Unfortunately, there were a few things about her power that concerned her. First, Taylor didn't know what effect, if any, using these items would have upon her own self. So far, there didn't appear to be any adverse effects, but you could never...

Taylor froze, her mind feeling like it was about to explode. Her items affecting her, that was her main concern. Today, she'd talked back to Sophia Hess. Why had she done that? Carefully, Taylor considered both what she'd done and how she'd felt while doing it. Then she thought about it some more. Finally, she facepalmed as the full gravity of what she'd done made itself evident to her. With a sinking feeling, Taylor realized that she could no longer tell herself that the things she was making were not having some effect upon her personality.

How else to explain not only standing up to Sophia, but her oddly different feelings about the girl and the encounter they'd had? Even now, it wasn't Sophia that fueled the sinking feeling in Taylor's stomach. Instead, it was concern over what exactly was happening to her.

Taylor shook her head in disbelief as she remembered the irritation that she'd felt towards Sophia. Not fear, not worry, not a sense of being hunted or picked upon. Sophia had become merely a buzzing irritant, rather than anything important. Although, the more she thought about the other girl, the more angry she could feel herself becoming. Taking a deep breath, Taylor focused upon the more urgent issue of her powers and what, if anything, they were doing to her.

What could Taylor do in the future to minimize the way she suspected her powers were messing with her head? She definitely needed to be on the look out for any situations like this one and her reactions to them. Maybe if she practiced turning the other cheek it would make things better? Then again, that was pretty much what Taylor had been doing for the past year a half and things had only gotten worse. Of course, now she had to deal with the mess her powers had gotten her into.

Rubbing her fingers across her forehead, Taylor wondered just what the hell she was going to do tomorrow when Sophia demanded her pound of flesh. However it turned out, it was unlikely to be a good thing. Because, if her powers were having some sort of effect upon her, just how likely was it that she'd stand there and just take whatever retribution Sophia dished out?

Glumly, Taylor concluded that wasn't very damn likely at all.


	3. Chapter Three: A New Start

**Chapter Three: A New Start**

"Breakfast is nearly ready, kiddo! Hurry up and take your shower!"

Taylor limped up the stairs, acknowledging her dad's words with a grunt as that was about all she had the energy to do. She'd decided to take up running to get herself in shape as there was every chance she'd need it as a hero, especially since she had no fantastic powers granting her increased speed or mobility.

No, Taylor was going to have to get around on foot. That meant that even if she got into trouble she'd need to be able to run away from it, so being in shape was an absolute necessity. So she'd run along the Boardwalk for almost three miles, which combined with the over a mile trip to get there, made for one hell of a beginner's run.

The only way Taylor had been able to do it had been by cheating. She'd used her new healing ring to regenerate every few blocks. So every time her muscles and lungs burned to the point she couldn't take another step, she's slowed, allowing her ring to do its work. Within five minutes, Taylor had been able to go again, almost as good as new. However, while that had worked somewhat effectively, she'd still been worn out when she finished.

Of course, the ring might have had more of an effect if Taylor had worn it on her finger instead of on a chain around her neck. But because of its emerald glow, she didn't dare wear it openly. The last thing she could afford to have happen was to be outed as a Parahuman. Still, now that she was home, Taylor could put her ring on at least while she showered.

Quickly pulling the chain over her head, Taylor undid the clasp. She quickly slid the ring off the chain and onto her finger. Okay, that was way more effective, she decided. Taylor could feel soothing relief running through her muscles as the aches and pains there were reduced by the ring's effect.

Soaking in the increased regeneration rate of her ring, Taylor stepped into the bathroom to take her shower.

Half an hour later, Taylor ran down the stairs feeling like a million bucks even if she was _starving_. Delicious smells greeted her at the door and she quickly seated herself across from her dad, who appeared to be halfway through his own breakfast.

Danny spoke in a casual tone, "How was your run? See anything interesting?"

Taylor wasn't fooled for a second and quickly responded, "No, Dad, nothing happened. I didn't run into any gang members and didn't see anything remotely criminal. You know, it's not like any of those guys get out of bed before noon. Or more likely, three in the afternoon."

Danny nodded in understanding. "I'm still going to pick you up a container of pepper spray during my lunch break today. Which you will carry when you go out tomorrow."

It wasn't a request and Taylor smiled at her dad's protectiveness. "Of course I will. Now eat your breakfast."

They both began eating, which in Taylor's case more closely involved inhaling her food. After a moment, Danny asked, "Kiddo, where did you get that ring?"

Taylor froze as sheer terror held her in place. She hadn't taken off her ring when she'd gotten out of the shower. Her dad was going to find out that she was a Parahuman because she was an utter idiot! What was she going to-

Her train of thought was completely derailed as Danny commented, "It looks like it's made out of some kind of gray stone. Can I see it for a second?"

Numbly, Taylor handed it over. Was her dad not going to comment on the elephant in the room, she wondered. Apparently not. Instead, Danny Hebert gave her brightly glowing emerald ring a casual look over, then slid it onto the smallest finger of his right hand. Taylor managed to get out, "I picked it up at the store a while back. This is the first time I've worn it, though. Do you like it?"

As Taylor stared at her dad, she could see the way his face seemed to relax as if some immense burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Danny sighed then rotated his shoulders, the faint popping sound bringing a rueful grin to his face. Taylor could see that the ring was already having an effect upon her dad, his blue deepening, while a healthy green glow began, centered on his right hand. Maybe the effect it had on him was why he hadn't mentioned the ring's glow?

A moment later, Danny slid it back off his finger and handed it back to her. His aura slowly returning to normal, he said, "It's pretty cool. As heavy as it is, it must be made out of some kind of really dense rock. Feels really smooth and polished, which I like. The color is kind of masculine, though. What made you get a dark gray stone ring instead of something brighter?"

As Taylor slid the ring back on her finger, she shrugged, even as her thoughts raced wildly in speculation. Her dad clearly didn't see the green glow. Whatever the effect was, his eyes couldn't register it. A sensation of complete relief raced through her body in competition with the soothing sensation of the ring upon her finger. She replied with a noncommittal, "Oh, I just liked it."

With that, they both went back to eating. Still, Taylor couldn't forget the look on her dad's face when he wore her ring. Not only had he looked younger, the lines on his face visibly smoothing, but far more unburdened. His aura had been much more healthy as well.

Taylor definitely needed to figure out a way to return that look to his face. She gave a resolute nod as she made a promise to herself that she would help her dad no matter what it took. Taylor slowly grinned around her mouthful of eggs. It might seem like she'd set herself a difficult task, but she felt rather positive at the moment.

After all, learning that no one else could see the effects on her items was huge. It was probably the most positive thing that had happened to Taylor this week. Now if only the situation with Sophia could be as positively resolved.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"You stupid bitch, did you think you'd get away with dissing me?"

Taylor painfully struggled to her feet, her knees feeling raw and torn, then spun to face her attacker. Sophia Hess sneered at her from where she'd tripped Taylor as she'd descended the stairs from the floor above, her reds screaming violence and beware.

For a moment, an answering red hot rage tore through Taylor as she took in the other girl's expression. She suspected that her colors currently mirrored Sophia's. Taking a deep breath, Taylor worked hard at calming herself down, a task actually made easier by the ring on her finger. The Regeneration ring was already working hard to sooth the aches of her knees from when they'd hit the hard concrete floor just now. Fortunately, Taylor hadn't hit her head, but had instead caught herself on her hands, the stinging there also steadily decreasing.

Now if Taylor could just keep her temper instead of retaliating, maybe she could put this behind her. Taking another deep breath, she pushed down the anger within her. Then she did it again. Okay, Taylor thought, she'd actually succeeded. She'd kept a lid on her temper. Until that is, with a sudden spike to her reds, Sophia went to push her.

As the black girl lunged at Taylor, hands open to knock her down again, some dam inside of her broke. As angry as she'd been just a moment before, that had been a trickle besides the deluge of this wrath. In the grip of true rage, Taylor no longer cared what the consequences of fighting back would be. Instead, she raised her own fist to strike the other.

As Sophia's hands hit Taylor's chest, sheer luck guided the punch that she threw in return as it hit the black girl directly on the nose, breaking it with a sound like cracking a walnut. Not that Taylor heard it that well as she was currently falling. Even as the punch connected, so had Sophia's hands, which knocked Taylor onto her back, her head hitting the floor behind her.

Taylor's vision seemed full of sparks as she stared up at the blurry form of her attacker. Where were her glasses, she wondered. Sophia, on the other hand, was still standing, while holding a hand over her nose. Pulling it back, she stared at the smear of red adorning it. Taylor had to suppress a giggle as she saw that the crimson of her own blood matched Sophia's aura almost exactly. Almost screaming, the other girl shouted, "Yuh bruk mah nuse."

Taylor felt a piercing stab of pain from the sheer volume of the shout. It was accompanied by a familiar sense of rage which had her trying to scramble to her feet, although what she'd be able to accomplish when she got there was anybody's guess. Then both girls froze as a voice behind them icily asked, "Just what the hell is going on here?"

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor rubbed the back of her head, wincing at the tender spot there. It wasn't healed, nor were Taylor's other bruises, especially those on her butt where she'd hit the floor so hard earlier. All of her injuries should have been healed and would have been healed but for one small thing. Taylor had had the presence of mind, after being confronted by Mrs Knott, to slide her Regeneration ring off of her finger and into a pocket on her backpack.

Taylor had known that if she was the only one not injured in a fight with Sophia Hess, there would be hell to pay. Which there already was, even with her own injures, including a concussion, being the more grievous of the two. Of course, all of that was being discussed right in front of her in fairly loud tones between her dad, Principal Blackwell, and someone named Mary Downing, who was apparently Sophia's guardian.

Dad was currently speaking, his red hue belying his calm tone, "...just how it is Taylor's fault that another girl tripped her going down the stairs, then went to push her, at which point she defended herself?"

Principal Blackwell sighed. She was a scrawny woman, with her dirty blonde hair cut in one of those severe bowl-style cuts that certain career women seemed to favor. Taylor couldn't see the attraction there, nor why she dressed like she was going to a funeral; black blouse, sweater, and skirt, as well as black shoes and socks. It didn't make much of a favorable impression on any of the students who came and went through her door each day either.

Her aura was a miasma of dull hues ranging from pallid yellows to sickly greens. No vestige of any positive emotion was contained within her, nor did she hold anything resembling passion for anything around her. Staring at her actually made Taylor vaguely nauseated. Although that may have just been the concussion.

"Mr Hebert, there's no proof that Taylor was tripped by anyone-"

Danny interrupted her, his voice low and intense, "Taylor did not have those rips in the knees of her jeans when she left the house this morning. That happened here, at school."

Principal Blackwell shook her head. "While something might have happened somewhere, there's no proof that anyone here had anything to do with any damage to your daughter's clothing. The skin of her knees isn't even bruised, so whatever happened wasn't particularly traumatic."

Crap, Taylor thought. Now she wished she'd never brought her ring to school at all. All that had ended up happening was that there was now no proof that she'd been tripped on the stairs at all. She focused back on what her dad was saying.

"I suppose her concussion didn't happen here either?"

The other woman shrugged. "After interviewing Mrs Knott, it's clear that Sophia Hess did push Taylor. However, it's also clear that there was no intention for Taylor to be injured. Taylor, on the other hand, definitely punched Sophia in the nose with the intention of causing her harm."

Her dad looked incredulous. "Are you seriously trying to say that this girl," Her dad gestured towards where Sophia slouched, looking sulkily angry, "Did not mean to injure my daughter? How exactly did you ascertain this? Do you have some kind of psychic on call who tells you these things?"

Principal Blackwell frowned. "There's no need to be insulting, Mr Hebert. As to how I know, I merely asked Ms Hess here about what happened. She told me that she and Taylor had an argument yesterday, which was continuing into today. She barely pushed your daughter a little to make a point, whereupon your daughter punched her in the nose and then fell the rest of the way down onto the floor, hitting her head. So it was actually Taylor who caused her own injury."

"That's utter bullshit."

The entire room froze in shock at the words, including Taylor. What had she just said? Then a familiar sense of anger roared into place and her mouth took off again. "You never believe me when something happens even when I get hurt. I suppose I locked myself into my locker with all of those used tampons at the beginning of the year in a cry for attention? What a fucking stupid cu-"

Danny's voice cracked like a whip as he said, "Taylor, that's enough." Slowly he got up and stood there, staring down at the various occupants of the room. Finally, he shook his head. "This has gone on long enough. It's clear that there is no way my daughter is safe here. I'm taking her out of this school immediately."

What? Taylor's head came up and she stared at her dad. He wanted to take her out of Winslow? How would that work? Her musing was interrupted by the last adult in the room speaking.

Mary Downing, who up until this point had been silent, finally chimed in. Her aura was an icy blue that seemed completely at odds with her sweet, heart-shaped face and soft blonde curls. On the other hand, it fit perfectly with the cold, hateful sound of her voice as she said, "I don't understand why Sophia and I are even here. If this girl is leaving school, then I can't see any of this impacting Sophia, or myself, in any way."

Danny Hebert stared down at the woman, a look of utter contempt on his face. "Taylor is leaving Winslow because of your ward, you stupid woman. That's how it impacts you and her. My God, you people disgust me."

For a moment, Taylor wondered at the way the other woman flinched, as well as the spike of bilious yellow from her aura. Then Danny pulled her to her feet as well, interrupting her train of thought.

From behind her desk, Principal Blackwell also got to her feet. She leaned forward as if to give her words more force. "Mr Hebert, you can take Taylor out of this school. That is your privilege. However, she must attend some form of education even if you choose to home school her yourself. Regardless of all of that, she is currently suspended for the next two weeks for injuring another student. You can make whatever arrangements you need with the school's secretary in the outer offices. This meeting is over."

For a moment, Taylor was afraid that her dad was about to punch the principal. Then Danny visibly calmed himself, his reds muted, but not gone. His grip slid down to Taylor's hand, and he gave it a reassuring squeeze before leading her out of the room.

Once out of the room and away from nosy ears, Danny murmured, "We're going home, kiddo. Let's put some ice on your bump and then we'll talk about our options."

Taylor nodded, then winced as her sore head reacted to the movement. "Sure, Dad. I'm sorry about-"

"You don't need to be sorry. This wasn't your fault. I wanted you to stand up for yourself. Today, I got a another look at just what you've been up against. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am that you were able to deal with this as long as you did."

Despite the pain in her head, Taylor couldn't prevent the broad smile that stole over her features at her dad's praise. The smile never left her face the entire time they walked through the halls of Winslow and out to their car. She wondered if this was what flying felt like?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor came awake abruptly. Sitting up quickly, she looked wildly around the room. She passed a shaking hand over her face, making a moue of distaste at the sweat she collected. Getting out of bed, Taylor washed her face off, then changed into fresh pajamas.

Around her, the house made odd little creaking sounds, which strangely enough, made her feel a sense of comfort, rather than of dread. After all, she'd lived in this old house all of her life. It was home. Even if it creaked at night and the floorboards were _freezing_ under her bare feet. Hastily, Taylor hurried back to bed.

As she lay there trying to get back to sleep, Taylor pondered what had woke her up. Of course, it was the nightmares. Not about the locker, but instead vague, nebulous ones.

Why had she started having nightmare again, Taylor wondered. At first, when she had been in the hospital and right after she'd come home, there had been nightmares about the locker. While Taylor couldn't remember the locker at all, she knew all of the details from the nightmares she'd had. But those nightmares had faded within the first couple of weeks after coming home. The events pictured within had dimmed in her memory until the only evidence they had ever existed at all were the notes Taylor had taken each time they woke her up, something the hospital psychiatrist had suggested.

But these latest nightmares Taylor didn't remember at all. No matter how quickly she turned on the light and grabbed a pen and paper, there was never anything to write down. Only a vague sense of urgency. Of course, what she needed to be urgent about was a complete unknown.

Maybe it was just her brain trying to make sense of what had happened to her. Rolling over onto her side, Taylor punched her old pillow into shape and settled into the serious job of trying to get back to sleep. After all, she had to be up early tomorrow to talk to her dad about her 'education'.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

By the next day, Taylor had begun feeling a lot better. Of course that was as much because of the ring as the plan she and her dad came up with on how to deal with her education.

For the foreseeable future, Taylor would be home schooled. Because of her dad's job and the sheer amount of time he needed to devote to the Dockworkers' Union, a lot of the responsibility would be on Taylor herself to self study. But the state would provide many of her materials, including books and homework guides to be filled out, while any others could be found at the public library.

The only drawback that Taylor could see was that if she got lazy, she might get way behind on her homework. The year end test was not intimidating, nor keeping track of all of her homework and other required documentation in a filing cabinet. Her dad had already said he would be checking daily to make sure everything was completed and filed properly, but Taylor suspected that if she were able to show that she could keep up with everything he would probably eventually push that back to weekly.

Certainly, Taylor did not want to disappoint her dad and not having to go back to Winslow was a godsend. At least for right now, she was feeling very motivated. It also didn't hurt that being home schooled should give her more time to learn about her abilities and work on her costume and accessories.

It would also get Taylor out of an environment that so easily made her angry enough that ninety percent of her items still glowed with a glaring crimson hue. Even though she wouldn't mention that point to her dad, it was important to her. At least being at home wouldn't make Taylor feel negatively as so many of her favorite memories were here.

In some ways, it almost made Taylor sad that she was leaving school, but only because it seemed like she was running away from her problems there. She was not, but she doubted that her classmates would see it that way. Certainly, the trio would believe they had finally routed her through their bullying.

With a sigh, Taylor pushed those negative thoughts away. At the moment, she had something to create. For this green item, she didn't have the slightest doubt that she would succeed. With a slow smile, she began to get started.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Two hours later found Taylor sitting on her bed, groaning in sheer relief. She'd finally done it! And it only took ten times as long as she thought it would.

Staring down at the brilliantly glowing ring sitting in the palm of her hand, Taylor couldn't help but smile. In the end, she had succeeded. Despite everything, including the rage still simmering in her heart, she had made another Regeneration ring. And it appeared to be even more powerful than the one she was currently wearing.

Taylor glanced over at the stack of rings over on the side table next to her bed, all of which looked identical to the one she held in her hand. With one exception, that is. All of the rings stacked up there were glowing varying brilliant shades of crimson.

Totaling up the imbued rings that she now possessed, Taylor came to the daunting conclusion that the tally sat at twenty-three rings of Wrath and two of Regeneration. Even more daunting, she still had to make boots and gloves for her costume. If she had anywhere near as much difficulty imbuing those items, she'd need up to a dozen pairs of each to succeed.

Oddly, it hadn't taken anywhere near as many attempts to make her other costume items. Her upper body suit and helm had only taken one attempt apiece, while she'd had to try twice to make the pants. Taylor frowned as she recalled the first attempt at imbuing a pair of jeans and the resulting sickly yellow glow they possessed.

Unfortunately, no one, including herself, would want to wear pants that not only made any attackers who struck them ill, but the wearer as well. Any contact with them resulted in a similar triggering effect to one of her grenades, a brief pause followed immediately by a yellow flash of nauseating sickness. Fortunately, Taylor could remotely stop her items from triggering as well as trigger them, so she could safely handle the pants. Currently, they were bundled up in the coal chute, next to _that_ thing.

The paucity of her ability when it came to making items imbued with positive emotions had another negative side effect. Taylor had tentatively planned to make suit pieces for any teammates she might have in the future, especially if she joined the Wards and found friends there. The charging requirement of her items could easily be overcome by time spent together training and patrolling. But the difficulty Taylor had in making the item to begin with was not so easily solved.

Still, if Taylor spent enough time away from the people and places that had caused her so much pain in the past, maybe she'd have an easier time of it. Maybe.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

It was three hours later when Taylor heard her dad at the door and shouted, "Dinner's ready, Dad! Come on back to the kitchen!"

Danny Hebert walked through the door from the living room, immediately commenting, "Something sure smells good. I take it you had time to cook dinner."

Enthusiastically, Taylor responded, "I sure did. I made lasagna, just the way Mom used to."

Only by the faintest darkening of his eyes did her dad betray the intensity of his emotions at the mention of Taylor's mother. Well that, and the faint, momentary graying of his aura. Still, Danny's voice was steady as he suggested, "Well, let me wash my hands and we can get started upon the feast you made."

"I'll see you in a few, Dad."

Ten minutes later, the two of them were seated across from one another loading up their plates. In addition to the lasagna, Taylor had also made a large Greek-style salad with lots of feta cheese and olives, served with a loaf of Italian bread. She'd split the loaf of bread in half and toasted it, after first liberally coating each side with butter and garlic. The wonderful smells of the food on their plates made both of them dig in heartily.

Halfway through dinner, Taylor dug a hand into the pocket of her jeans, while casually commenting, "Oh, Dad, I got you a little something."

Danny looked up from his plate, still busily chewing a big mouthful of lasagna. When he could finally speak, he asked, "Really? What did you get me?"

Taylor smiled casually, even as she felt her pulse speed up at the sheer importance of what she was about to do hit her. "Well, your birthday's coming up next week, so I went ahead and picked up your present. I figured I'd just give it to you today, if that's all right with you?"

Danny grinned, rubbing his hands together ostentatiously in anticipation. In the past, he'd always loved getting presents, whatever the occasion. "Of course it is, kiddo. I'm always up for receiving presents."

Seeing her dad act like he'd done before her mom passed away caused a lump in Taylor's throat. Her voice just a little huskier, she said, "Here you go."

With that, Taylor handed her dad a small wrapped box containing the ring she'd made earlier. She watched as Danny opened the box and took out a ring identical to the one that adorned her own finger. Then he tried it on, sliding it onto the index finger of his right hand. Taylor almost sighed with relief when it fit perfectly.

She'd been fairly certain that she had the right size when she'd made the ring, but she couldn't be absolutely positive that it would fit her dad. Seeing it on his hand now, it made Taylor feel almost giddy.

Danny looked both pleased and puzzled as he examined the ring on his finger. "It looks just like the one you're wearing, kiddo. Am I right?"

Taylor nodded. "Yep, Dad, you are. I liked the one I had so much that I decided to get you one as well. This way we match. Plus, it's kind of like a new tradition that involves just the two of us. A father daughter thing."

For a second, Taylor thought her words were going to make her dad cry as his colors flared through a rainbow's spectrum. Danny did surreptitiously wipe away what might have been a tear before getting up, rounding the table, and pulling her up and into a huge hug. His voice husky with emotion, her dad said, "That sounds like a great idea. I'll never take it off, Taylor. Thank you so much for my gift."

Hugging him back just as fiercely, Taylor blinked back her own tears as she said, "You're welcome, Dad." Continuing to hug him for several more seconds, she finally pushed away from Danny, saying, "Now let's finish dinner before it gets cold."

Danny smiled into her eyes, then ruffled her hair to Taylor's consternation, ignoring her cry of "Dad!" He headed back to seat and immediately began eating again. Taylor continued to make small talk throughout dinner, but she had the most niggling feeling that something was now different.

It wasn't until Taylor was heading upstairs after finishing washing up that she could finally put a finger on what had changed. Danny Hebert was no longer slouching. Instead, even when he sat across from her, his back was straight and tall. And that wasn't all. For the first time since her mother's death, her dad actually looked happy.

From the colors coruscating through his aura, Taylor could tell that it wasn't just happiness her dad was feeling, as if he was once again enjoying his life. More than that, Danny Hebert looked like someone who had rediscovered his own innate sense of strength and self worth. His aura now consisted of mostly bright blues and healthy greens, the latter constantly being reinforced by the Regeneration ring, along with just a dusting of other emotions. Most of the dull grays and drab greens had been chased away by her own efforts and had been replaced by his new, brighter colors. More than anything else, Taylor hoped that someday soon, the last of those dull, drab hues would be forever gone, never to return again.

As she washed up, getting ready for bed, Taylor considered all the things that had happened over the course of the last couple of days. Overall, she was proud of what she'd accomplished. Helping her dad made her feel warm and a little emotional. Escaping Winslow gave her a sense of relief. Knowing that she now controlled her own future, made her feel strong, as if anything was possible. Not even her nightmares could steal the warmth she felt inside.

Taylor was about to get into bed when she felt a familiar sensation. Unhurriedly, she walked over to her chest of drawers and quietly opened the middle one. She took out a pair of leather gloves, sliding them onto her hands. Sitting back onto her bed, Taylor closed her eyes and waited.

With a sensation of utter bliss, Taylor pushed all of the warm emotions of the day into the gloves she wore. This feeling, she decided, was how it was meant to be. The blue glow that greeted her when she opening her eyes felt so very much like victory.

That night, she slept like a baby as nothing woke her at all.


	4. Chapter Four: Secrets and Hate

**Chapter Four: Secrets and Hate**

″Hey, Dad!″ Taylor exclaimed, coming in from her morning run. She felt amazingly well despite the nearly ten miles she'd just run at well under a six minute per mile pace. Then again, that was just one of the advantages that Regeneration rings conferred upon you. Taylor was all too aware of how, under the shapeless sweats she wore, her stomach was now flat and toned, while her legs were equally strong and muscular. Being able to heal so quickly had allowed her to push herself far harder than even a professional athlete could have, leading to amazing results in a surprisingly short period of time.

″Morning, Kiddo! How did the run go?″ Danny's smile was completely genuine as he smiled back at her. Taylor could see how great his aura looked, now lacking pretty much any vestiges of gray or other muted colors.

″Really good. I made it pretty far today. And don't worry, I have the pepper spray in my pocket.″

Danny nodded decisively. ″Good. So what's the plan for today? Still going to the library?″

″Definitely.″

Her dad's smile grew proud. ″You deserve it. What you've accomplished over the past month is nothing short of amazing.″

Taylor felt her face heat. In a protesting voice, she said, ″Dad...″

Danny held up a hand. ″No, let me be the proud papa for once. Taylor, in only thirty days, you've managed to review everything your teachers taught since the beginning of your sophomore year. Not just that, but you managed to either catch up or get ahead in every single class. You're so smart, kiddo, just like your mother. I couldn't be more proud of you.″

Taylor couldn't help returning her dad's smile even as she blushed again. ″Thanks, Dad.″

When he went to hug her, Taylor backed away with a grin. ″Dad, I'll get you all sweaty. I promise an extra big hug when you get home from work.″

Danny brushed back her hair a little where it clung to Taylor's sweaty cheek. He bargained, ″I want two hugs then.″

Taylor ducked her head bashfully, then nodded her agreement. She couldn't help the big smile that spread across her face at the affection her dad was showing her, something that she would never have imagined happening just two months ago.

Just over a month had passed since her dad had pulled Taylor out of Winslow. She'd put the time since then to good use. Taylor had managed to actually get through a significant amount of material in each of her new textbooks. While they were the same books currently in use in all but a handful of the public high schools in New Hampshire, unlike the usual ones that Winslow issued, these were brand new and completely undamaged by time or other students.

Her current textbooks even had that wonderful, new book smell. Which helped Taylor follow through with a plan she'd made just over a month earlier. A plan in which she'd decided to go back and reread everything that should have been covered in school, but hadn't.

Before, when she was just another unmotivated teenager, Taylor hadn't really cared if the teachers skipped large sections of the books from which they taught, seemingly unable to find the time to cover everything therein. Now that she was responsible for her own education, she found that she cared very much. Taylor now wanted to learn the material as well as she could, putting to work what others, before she'd entered high school, had claimed was a mind as brilliant as her mother's.

So Taylor had studied and done homework from ten to twelve hours a day for the past month. During that time, she'd not only reviewed every single item assigned by her former teachers since the beginning of the school year, she had also covered all of the material they had skipped. Much of that material was filler, likely why it was skipped, but a great deal of it had valuable, making her wonder about the reasons for not including it.

Additionally, Taylor had managed to catch up to, then surpass where each of her classes was supposed to be, at least according the various syllabuses she'd received at the beginning of the year. Doing so made her feel extremely good about herself. Her academic accomplishments gave Taylor back a sense of self-worth that she'd been sorely lacking for a very long time. It had been stripped from her during a year and a half's worth of bullying.

Her accomplishment was why Taylor was rewarding herself today with a day off to spend at the library working on cape stuff. She had her priorities, one of which was to do a lot more research on the various capes around Brockton Bay. Taylor planned to complete her dossiers of each and every Parahuman within the city, hero or villain. After all, she might find them useful someday, even if she never went out as a hero.

Taylor also planned to have some fun. To read and explore some things that weren't just dry facts. She'd peruse the PHO Message Boards and see what she could find out about Parahumans that made them more human. The things that made them tick. That inspired them. Hell, Taylor would read gossip about the Wards and local Protectorate heroes, if that was what it took, although she'd already decided to draw the line at reading capefic. That way lay badness.

Still, if she were to accomplish her research, she needed to get started. Giving her dad one last smile, Taylor said, ″Well, I need to go grab a shower. Even though I'm getting to be in pretty good shape these days, I still sweat like a pig when I run.″

With that Taylor ran up the stairs, aware of the echo of her dad's laughter following her. If she hurried, she might even get back in time to make dinner before her dad got home.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

It was several hours later when Taylor finally logged off the computer terminal she'd managed to score. It was one that had its screen facing a corner, allowing her to conceal what she was perusing. Not that there was anything wrong with what she was researching, but she didn't want random strangers knowing her business. As she sat there, contemplating all that she'd learned, Taylor slowly stretched, her back cracking, then smiled at how good she felt. Score another one for her Regeneration rings. Even hours spent hunched over a computer terminal was no match for them. Stifling a laugh, she carefully began gathering up everything on her desk and placing it into her backpack.

Today really had been pretty damn productive. Taylor now had written descriptions as well as a great deal of speculation on the powers of pretty much every known cape in Brockton Bay. She'd also looked over the various images and videos that had been taken of most of the city's Parahumans. While a lot of the pictures and videos posted online were of heroes, like the Wards and Protectorate, enough were of the villains living in Brockton Bay, that Taylor thought she'd be able to recognize most of them on sight.

The only problem was that it felt a little useless doing all of this research. Taylor no longer possessed the same iron commitment she'd held even just one month earlier towards becoming a hero. While she'd managed to finish off the last piece of her suit nearly a week ago, as well as make another of her green Regeneration rings, she'd done nothing else to further her earlier goals of going out as a hero. Sometimes it felt like only her innate stubbornness kept Taylor working towards the goal that had once seemed so important.

Even now, Taylor wasn't sure that going out and using her powers to save people was the best direction for her life to take. It was such a huge step, after all. She glanced at her watch and hurried her packing, worried that she might miss her bus. But Taylor's thoughts kept returning to how she was waffling about going out and using her abilities.

It was just... things in her life were going so well recently. Both Taylor and her dad, Danny, had gotten a new lease upon their relationship as well as what felt like a new lease on life itself. She no longer had to deal with the trio and the hell that school had become, which showed every day in how happy and positive she felt, while her dad seemed to be even more re-energized than Taylor herself had become.

Danny Hebert had found his muse once again and had returned to his duties at the Dockworkers Union with renewed energy and commitment. Using that newfound drive, he'd managed to score three new contracts from the city for the Union over the past three weeks, ranging from clearing out derelict buildings to helping with the new water main project. Almost every one of the members were currently working, except for a handful of specialists, who would be employed by a different project at a later date. All of this had been accomplished solely using Danny's own powers of persuasion.

Taylor had gotten the impression that her dad had basically steamrolled the mayor and the city council during one of their periodic meetings in order to accomplish the things he'd done. He just wouldn't take no for an answer. Whether he would be able to continue doing so in the future was another thing entirely. But for now, Danny Hebert had grown steadily stronger emotionally, proud of both his accomplishments and of his daughter, and happier than he'd been in years.

Just knowing how happy her dad felt about the direction in which their lives was heading, made Taylor, in turn, feel just as good. She was equally as proud of him as he was of her and it showed in so many ways, from their renewed closeness in the things they shared with one another, to the casual affection they directed towards each other. Thrice daily hugs were now the standard instead of the increasingly rare exception.

Yes, things were going so well that Taylor was almost wondering when the other shoe was going to drop. For the last few years it had seemed like there was a steadily downward spiral in the lives of the Hebert family, one that had started well before even the death of her mother. It's origin could likely be traced back to when the Ferry shut down, as that had had a devastating effect upon her dad, over and above the financial impact it had on the Docks themselves.

Now, the downward direction of their lives seemed to have reversed itself, now headed back upwards, and Taylor couldn't be happier about it. The only negatives that she had to deal with were the dreams, nightmares really, that she seemed to have almost every night. Not that Taylor remembered much about the nightmares. Just a sensation of urgency, of needing to do something important. She- Taylor's train of thought was derailed as she caught a glimpse of someone she had hoped she would never have to see again.

During the time she'd been contemplating the lives of the Hebert clan, Taylor had made her way outside and was close to the bus stop. Almost, she'd started to run because she saw her usual bus, the one that ran in a circular route from Downtown, past her school, and ending fairly close to her house, currently busily unloading passengers. If Taylor missed it, she would need to wait another forty-five minutes for it to come around again.

Taylor had started to jog in that direction when she saw Sophia Hess getting off of the bus and heading northwards at a fast walk. For just a moment, she froze, torn between the bus and her own curiosity. Finally, Taylor turned northward as well. Not questioning her own motivations, she followed the African-American girl, staying about half a block behind her. As she kept to the quick pace Sophia set, Taylor's mind was awash with curiosity and other, murkier feelings.

What was Sophia doing downtown? Clearly not headed to the library, as she was walking in the opposite direction. The only public buildings in the direction she was traveling were the PRT Headquarters, City Hall, and Police Headquarters. At least, those were the only ones that Taylor was aware of.

For a moment, Taylor wondered if Sophia was headed to one of the upscale shops that several of taller skyscrapers boasted within their first couple of floors. Maybe meeting Emma there? If so, she would be turning about... now. However, Sophia didn't make the aforementioned turn. Instead, she continued on a straight line onward. What the hell was going on, Taylor wondered. Could the other girl be sightseeing? It seemed completely out of character for the sadistic bully, but then again, how well did Taylor really know the other girl?

Ahead of her, Sophia walked with purpose, head up and staring straight ahead, her aura as red as ever. No, this was no casual stroll or window shopping expedition. Sophia was not there to see the sights. Wherever she was going, she knew the route and was impatient to arrive. Taylor worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she considered just what a good thing it was that Sophia was so focused upon her destination that she wasn't looking around her.

Otherwise, she might have spotted one Taylor Hebert following her. And that would have led to all kinds of bad. Not that Taylor was afraid of the other girl any longer. If anything, the emotion she felt was more akin to a kind of contemptuous irritation, like Sophia was being a bother, but at the same time, well beneath her. It was a strange mix of emotions and Taylor still didn't have a good read upon her own feelings.

Why couldn't she read herself as easily as she was learning to read others, Taylor wondered. That would really make the curve balls that life threw her way a great deal easier to deal with. Case in point, Sophia Hess. More than anything, she just wanted to ignore the other girl, to turn around and pretend that she'd never seen her. But she didn't, something that didn't make any sense when coupled with her feelings. Because if Taylor didn't care what Sophia was doing, or felt she was contemptible and beneath her, why was she following her?

Taylor's frustrating train of thought was derailed as she saw Sophia turn into an alley ahead of her. Moving a great deal more cautiously now, she made her way to the mouth of the alley. Peering around the corner, Taylor saw that Sophia was no longer in view. Instead, all Taylor saw was an empty alley, containing several trash cans scattered around along with the occasional dumpster. Nothing moved within except one lonely piece of paper that was being hurried along by the wind.

Taylor immediately headed down the alley at a fast jog, keeping an eye out in case Sophia was planning to ambush her. Except the other girl wasn't there. Nor did Taylor see her when she exited the other end of the alley. What the hell? Where had Sophia gone? Then Taylor caught the barest glimpse of color at the extreme edge of her vision, a flash of a crimson aura. That had to be her!

Running now, Taylor ducked behind a row of parked cars as she watched Sophia Hess head into the parking structure behind a large building that almost looked familiar, even when viewed from the rear. Taylor once again slowed down so that she wouldn't quite catch up to the other girl. But when she reached the ramp of the parking garage, there was no one in sight.

That meant that Sophia must have entered the building next to the parking structure. Although, what had she used as an entrance? Taylor didn't see any doors close enough for Sophia to have used. Not that it mattered all that much, as she wasn't going to be following her inside. It would be too easy to be caught if the other girl were loitering just inside the building. Instead, Taylor was going to find out what building it was, in an effort to find out what the other girl was up to.

After just a moment's search, Taylor saw the sign for the parking garage which stated that the parking within was only available by permit to employees of the Parahuman Response Team. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she now understood why the building seemed familiar. She and Emma had fantasized often enough about becoming capes when they were younger. They'd spent time on Emma's desktop researching ideas as well as looking at pictures of the main places where Parahumans could be found, such as the PRT and Protectorate Headquarters.

Why would Sophia go into the PRT Headquarters, Taylor wondered. She was almost certain her mother didn't work there, because of small hints that she'd picked up just from going to school with the other girl. She, herself, certainly couldn't work there. The only teenagers employed at the PRT were the War-

Taylor's thoughts ground to a halt. Glittering red rage beckoned to her from behind a wall made up of the renewed hopes and dreams she held for the future. Control, she whispered to herself, as her nails made bloody circles in her palms. She had to maintain control. After all, maybe she was wrong.

Slowly, Taylor walked up to the area from which Sophia had disappeared. There was no door there. Nothing at all. The distant squall grew closer, beginning to echo through her mind. Aimlessly, she walked away, trying to control her emotions. Right now, more than anything, Taylor needed to think clearly.

Okay, there were only two girls who were currently in the Wards program here in Brockton Bay. This was something Taylor had just researched. Vista was too young and small to be Sophia, while Shadow Stalker... Taylor stared sightless into space as she remembered the various pictures she'd looked at of all of the Wards. Many of the pictures, taken for the most part by amateur photographers, had been snapped during promotional events when the Wards were taken out and paraded in front of the public as a shining representation of what a Parahuman could be.

But others, even if only a few, were taken after cape fights. Shadow Stalker had more pictures of that nature taken than any other Ward. Shadow Stalker, whose costume covered her from head to toe, leaving no hint of the color of her skin, except in a few pictures where it was ripped after she'd finished fighting someone. Exposing skin the color of mocha. Shadow Stalker, who was an African-American girl who physically matched Sophia Hess' body type to a T.

Now that Taylor had the match made in her mind, it seemed almost obvious. Shadow Stalker's body language, the way she held herself in the pictures and videos that she'd watched was so like Sophia's that they might have been twins. Or just the same person. Maybe another person would not have seen it, but as the person towards whom Sophia Hess had directed so much violence over the last year and a half, Taylor was in a unique position to judge.

It wasn't just the match in appearance. Shadow Stalker had a reputation within the PHO Forums for being a dangerous, out of control vigilante. Rumors swirled around her that she had used lethal ammo before joining the Wards as well as other rumors of vicious injuries inflicted. Violence and sadism were just two more areas that matched up with Sophia Hess. Don't forget how brusque they say Shadow Stalker acts towards even the victims of violent crimes, a little voice seemed to whisper inside of Taylor. Just like Sophia. Yes, they could easily be the same person.

Taylor took a deep breath, aware that her hands were already healed. Carefully, she flexed her fingers, making slow fists, then releasing them. She had to let this go. Everything she'd just thought was speculation. She was smart enough to see the failure paths her thoughts had taken her down. Plus, as smart as Taylor thought herself, she didn't think she was smarter than the Protectorate Thinkers who had likely figured out the security procedures the Wards followed. If it were that easy to find out the identity of a Ward, none of them would possess a secret identity.

Taylor reached up and rubbed her eyes behind her glasses. She'd wasted almost half an hour standing in this dirty alley thinking about this. Was it really that hard to let her desire to become a hero go? Because she couldn't think of anything else that would make her act like the kind of idiot who would follow another person, then try to create some kind of fantasy about who they were just in order to justify her own actions.

A glimpse of movement, seen out of the corner of her eye, interrupted Taylor's thought process. Turning, she wondered just what she'd seen. It was probably nothing more than another piece of paper blowing in the wind. A second later Taylor saw, just over a block away, a dark figure, leap from one rooftop to the next, easily crossing the alley in which she lurked. A dark figure that blazed a familiar crimson, its aura a promise of violence and danger. So she wasn't delusional after all, Taylor thought, as the world around her grew more and more distant like an out of focus movie.

While Taylor's musings were taking place, her feet had carried her well away from the PRT HQ and down the alley behind the row of buildings that contained it. Later, she would consider that a good thing. But not right now. Right now, Taylor wasn't thinking of risks or consequences or anything else really. Right now, Taylor was screaming at the top of her lungs, in the grip of a rage that left her breathless, as if she'd run for many more miles than she had that morning.

Right now, Taylor Hebert wanted more than anything to watch Sophia Hess die.

Later, she'd remember picking up the five foot length of rebar that had been left lying on the street as if tossed aside. Later, Taylor's nose would scrunch up as she considered how gross the thing had been, with what appeared to be dried blood decorating one end. Later, she'd wonder at the appropriateness of reusing such an effective instrument of violence, of dedicating it to its new purpose. Later, all of those things and more, would be true.

Right now, the only truth Taylor found lay in the rage, hatred, and hunger for another's life that she poured into the instrument of her vengeance. Right now, even as the thing she held changed, and grew, and became something filled with its own malevolent purpose, her mind found no surcease.

Right now, even while Taylor poured her darkest emotions into what she held, there seemed to be an endless well from whence they originated. As the instrument of death she held in her hands grew stronger and darker, until its ebony glow almost drained the alley of light, she filled it with all of what she felt, until finally, there was a sensation of easement.

Taylor collapsed to her knees, for the first time in several minutes once again aware of her surroundings. She could feel the rings on her fingers, their positivity competing with, and being eclipsed by, the grotesque, pulsing nightmare she held in her hands. She knew she needed to get up, to get back to the bus station, and get home. There was dinner to be made for her dad. There was small talk to be exchanged as the two of them filled one another in on their days, talking about the most trivial of details as if they mattered. There was so much that Taylor still had to do today. So much she had to live for.

Regardless of any of those things, it took long minutes before anything penetrated the blankness contained within the mind of the girl in the alley. Long minutes while dark thoughts skittered through her mind like a dry leaves driven by an icy wind. Long minutes before any light could penetrate Taylor's midnight.

Finally, those long minutes had passed, each tick of the seconds that made them up feeling halfway like forever. Finally, the tall gangly girl kneeling in the alley staggered to her feet, and moving as slowly as any other cripple, made her way in the direction of home.


	5. Chapter Five: Adventures on the Other Si

**Chapter Five: Adventures on the Other Side**

Shadow Stalker crouched down at the edge of the rooftop, hidden behind the parapet there. Below her, a group of what she thought might be Merchants milled around a fifty gallon metal drum, trying to warm themselves in the fire burning within. She was just about to float down and roust them when her attention was drawn to her PRT issued phone, currently set to vibrate.

Glancing at the phone's screen, she cursed at the caller's identity. Answering it, she snapped, ″What?″

″Shadow Stalker, this is Vista, you need to come in right now. And turn your communicator back on. I've been trying to reach your for the last fifteen minutes.″

Sophia Hess, who lived to be her alter ego, Shadow Stalker, drawled sarcastically, ″Now isn't that too damn bad. Why do I need to come in?″

Vista sounded angry and hurt as she snapped back, ″It is bad. What if you were hurt? Anyway, Armsmaster's here and he sent down word he needs to speak with you in Piggot's office. So get back here!″

″Fine!″

It was all Sophia could do not to throw her phone to the alley below. Taking a deep breath, she managed to control herself. She wondered what the Powers That Be wanted now. Probably to waste more of her time going over pointless procedures, she mused. Or maybe to see another court-appointed psychiatrist.

Regardless, she knew it was a waste of time. Just not one she could ignore. With a snarl of disappointment aimed at the alley below, Shadow Stalker headed back to base.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Armsmaster stood to the side of Director Piggot's desk as the woman dressed down his Ward. After all, Shadow Stalker was still his responsibility, despite his having all but abandoned the ENE Wards to the PRT Director's control. Still, when something of this nature occurred, he was part of the process of making sure it did not reoccur, whether he really had the time for it or not.

″...understand that we have procedures in place for a reason. Just because you don't want to walk the extra half dozen blocks to the special elevator that takes you to the protected changing rooms, and then use the underground tunnel leading to the Ward's quarters is no reason to violate those same procedures. Those procedures protect not just you, but all of the other Wards as well.″

Shadow Stalker protested, ″I don't understand what you're talking about. If you'd only let me arrive in my costume-″

Director Piggot frowned. ″That's simple impossible. You're on probation. Be glad that you're allowed to take it home for emergencies. As to not understanding what I'm talking about, don't be disingenuous. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. I'm addressing this afternoon's incident where you ghosted through the wall in the PRT parking structure and into the tunnel behind. _You changed in an employee restroom._ What do you have to say for yourself?″

Armsmaster paid attention here as Piggot would almost certainly want his feedback on whether the girl was sincere or not as well as whether or not she lied in any of her responses.

Shadow Stalker wouldn't meet the gaze of either of the adults in the room as she said, ″I was running late because of track practice so I took a one-time shortcut.″ True. ″I don't understand why this is such a big deal.″ True. ″Why are you making such a huge issue of one little exception to these needlessly complicated procedures?″

Director Piggot, an overweight woman in her forties, rubbed the bridge of her nose as she considered her reply. Finally in a tired tone, she said, ″When you entered the alley next to the PRT Headquarters, you were followed, something _you_ didn't notice despite having been trained to. You were also followed to the PRT parking garage. You may have even been seen ghosting through the wall. The security cameras certainly caught your breach.″

Armsmaster straightened as he realized that this was more than just a Ward violating procedures. A major security breach had likely occurred. Even if it was within the PRT Headquarters and not the Protectorate HQ, he still should have been notified since it involved a Ward. He would be having words with the Director after their interview with Shadow Stalker was over.

″I was followed? Fu... I mean, by who?″

Director Piggot turned her monitor towards the Ward. Playing on it was a split screen showing four different security feeds. Each showed a skinny teenage girl walking slowly along while carefully looking around a corner. The girl in question had thin mouth, long curly brown hair, and round glasses. She also couldn't have been more than fifteen years old.

″Taylor Hebert. I'm going to.. kick her ass from here to the bay.″ Ambivalent. ″This happened today?″

Piggot nodded brusquely. ″Of course it happened today. I take it you know this girl? Is she a friend of yours?″

Shadow Stalker stiffened. ″I know her.″ True. ″She is _not_ a friend of mine.″ True. ″I go... went to school with her until recently.″ True. ″Her dad pulled her out of Winslow about a month ago for some reason.″ True. ″I don't know why she'd be following me, though.″ True.

Director Piggot nodded her understanding. ″Well she did. Are you certain you don't know why a girl you used to go to school with would follow you?″

Shadow Stalker shook her head. ″No idea.″ True. ″Can I go now?″

Director glanced at Armsmaster, who nodded back that the girl had been telling the truth during the questioning. He ignored the ambivalence of the minor threat as being unimportant. ″Yes. You'll be notified of your punishment for violating procedures later.″

The teen huffed out a ″Fine.″ Then, she paused a moment, ″You're going to do something about her maybe knowing my civilian identity, aren't you?″

Director Piggot glared at the teen a moment, then nodded, ″Standard NDA and monitoring after. If she talks, we'll know.″

Armsmaster noted that Shadow Stalker didn't seem as pleased by that information as she might otherwise have been. Her only acknowledgment of Director Piggot's words was a muttered ″Thanks.″

After the girl left, Armsmaster turned to Director Piggot. ″You should have notified me as Head of the Protectorate ENE immediately that there was a security breach.″

Director Piggot steepled her fingers, looking back at him over them. In a flat tone, she stated, ″I consider this an internal PRT matter.″ Then after a moment, she shrugged. ″I had planned on forwarding the report to you when it was complete.″

Armsmaster frowned. Grudgingly, he responded, ″While that might satisfy me ordinarily, it does not in this instance. If it involves one of my Wards, then it also involves the Protectorate. As the head of this branch, I need faster notification.″

Piggot gave him a quelling look. ″One of your Wards is why this is happening in the first place. If Sophia Hess had just followed procedure we wouldn't be having this conversation. Plus, do I need to remind you who is in charge here? Regardless of it involving Shadow Stalker, it took place on PRT grounds, so it's a PRT matter.″

Armsmaster digested the director's words. He wasn't satisfied with her reasoning, finding it specious at best. Likely it was yet another power play by someone who vehemently distrusted Parahumans and often took an antagonistic attitude with the Protectorate. Unfortunately, that wasn't anything he could do about it. By the letter of the regulations, Director Piggot did not have to immediately notify him of a security breach occurring on PRT grounds, even if by any reasonable expectation she should. Fortunately, there were unofficial channels he could take advantage of to express his displeasure.

After a moment, still dissatisfied, he asked, ″What do you plan to do about the situation?″

″I'm sending a van to pick the girl and her father first thing tomorrow morning. Once they're here, they won't be leaving until they've both signed an NDA and had the fear of God put into them. We can't have a Ward's identity leaking, even if the Ward in question flouts security procedures. I want you to be there for the questioning.″

Armsmaster nodded. He couldn't argue with the plan, and while he had a lot on his plate, this was one of the necessary evils that went with being in charge. ″Fine. I'll be here for the questioning. Now I really need to get to my lab.″

Armsmaster waited until he received a nod of confirmation before he walked out.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"Something wrong, kiddo?"

The concern in her dad's voice pulled Taylor out of her introspection. She'd just finished her usual morning run and hadn't greeted her dad with her usual cheery greeting. Unfortunately, he was a lot more sensitive these days than he'd been before her trigger and immediately noticed that she was feeling blue. Her dad had likely noticed it last night as well, as Taylor had been a little clingy during their hugfest but had waited until today to ask about it.

Of course, it hadn't gotten any better in just one day, the faint pull she could feel from downstairs could attest to that. Also, last night, Taylor's nightmares had been fairly bad. More than anything, she hated to tell her dad about all of this, as the things that had happened felt all too much like failure. On the other hand, she felt he deserved to know. Still, she needed to be circumspect in informing him as she didn't want to let slip that she was a Parahuman. Taylor hesitated for a moment, then finally asked, "Dad, can I ask you something?"

Danny nodded, his eyes soft as they met Taylor's own. "Of course you can. Anything."

"Can you think of any reason for a teenager to be at the PRT HQ other than that they're a Ward?"

Danny gave her a questioning look. "For now, I'll avoid asking you why you were at the PRT Headquarters yourself, and just go ahead and answer your question. Let's see, they have family working there." At Taylor's head shake, her dad continued, "They're reporting a Parahuman crime. Umm... They're trying to get an internship for the summer. I'm pretty sure the Brockton Bay PRT still hands out three or four of those every summer if you're at least sixteen and plan a career with them."

Taylor nodded, as she stared at the wall opposite her, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't think of that last one. I guess it could be that. But..."

Danny's next words prodded gently, drawing her attention back to him. "Taylor, I think it would be a good idea to share what's bothering you. Please?"

Taylor stared into her dad's eyes, the concern there shining through. His aura was a soft blue that touched her deeply. Taking a deep breath, she said in a rush, "I followed Sophia Hess from the bus stop downtown to the PRT HQ. I lost her in the parking garage and I'm pretty sure she must have used an entrance that isn't visible to regular people. At least, I couldn't find it. I can't think of anyone other than a Ward who would know about a 'secret' entrance. I..."

Taylor's voice trailed off, unable to complete her story. Not that she needed to. Her dad's aura had changed as reds now streaked his form completely, momentarily overwhelming the blues within. Still, his voice was rock steady as he asked, "I take it that you have a theory that Sophia is one of the Wards?"

Her voice low, Taylor said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that she's Shadow Stalker. Everything from her body type to... Well, it just explains so much. Like how she was able to get away with the locker and all of the bullying. Maybe even why Emma dumped me as a friend in the first place. Hanging around a Parahuman has got to be a lot more glamorous than, well, me."

"Taylor," Danny's voice was stern as he said her name. "I don't want you to think for one second that anyone, Parahuman or normal, is one bit better than you are. Whatever reason Emma did what she did, stopped being your friend, probably has nothing to do with you and everything to do with her. Understand?"

Taylor nodded. "I understand, I guess. But sometimes..."

"Knowing something doesn't help how you feel about it?"

"Yeah."

Danny leaned over and hugged Taylor. His reds were already muting as he focused more on his daughter's unhappiness than his own anger. More than anything else, that change helped Taylor, knowing that her dad genuinely loved her. Because one thing that was definitely true about Danny Hebert was that he had one hell of a temper. Anything that made him not explode when he was that angry must be important to him. _She_ was important to him, just as he was to her.

Hugging him back just as fiercely as he hugged her, she thought about her next words. Taylor didn't really know how to say what she needed to, so finally just decided to get it out there. Her outrage demanded at least that much. Releasing her dad from the hug, she asked, "What are we going to do about her, Dad? About Sophia, I mean? We can't just let her keep being a Ward after she-"

Danny interrupted Taylor, his own tone calm, "Yes, we can. And we will. What we can't do is follow her around and risk getting caught trying to expose a Ward. Taylor, you could go to jail for just doing what you did. At your age, it would probably only be juvenile detention, but we can't risk even that. The Protectorate is very serious about outing a hero. I know that she's probably not one, and maybe even they do as well. Still, for the foreseeable future, we just need to batten down the hatches and ignore that girl. As bad as she's acted, it's probably just a matter of time until she implodes and gets thrown out of the Wards. Maybe then we can come forward."

As unpalatable as her dad's words were, Taylor understood where he was coming from. Unfortunately, as a familiar feeling of ire churned in the pit of her stomach, she wasn't sure that she would be able to just let it go.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Taylor and Danny exchanged puzzled glances as neither could think of anyone who would be knocking on their door at just after seven in the morning.

Danny got up and walked into the living room to answer the door. Taylor heard muffled voices, then her dad called out, ″Taylor, can you come here, please?″

Getting up, Taylor headed into the living room, but stopped when she saw the man in the man in dark suit, which just screamed 'Fed', standing in the doorway. His aura was cool grays and calm purples and blues. Her gut churned with a distant anger as she realized why he must have come to their house.

Danny said, ″Taylor, this gentleman from the PRT is here to request that the two of us go down and answer some questions about what happened yesterday. If you want, I'll contact an attorney I know to meet us down there.″

Taylor almost said no automatically because of the cost, but then reconsidered. Money didn't seem as tight as it had been even two months ago. Plus, even if she hadn't done anything wrong, at least not in her opinion, it was probably a good idea to have representation, just in case. From all of her readings, she was aware that the PRT and Protectorate wielded a great deal of power, both figuratively and politically. Sufficient power to steamroll a bump in the road named Taylor Hebert. Best not to take that chance.

Taylor slowly nodded. ″I think that would be a good idea, Dad.″

The PRT employee, who appeared as calm and relaxed on the outside as his aura suggested, seemed content to wait. He even introduced himself when Danny left the room to make his call. ″I'm Agent Matthews, ma'am.″

″Taylor Hebert.″

Faint amusement colored the man's aura, momentarily overriding his professionalism. ″I know.″

Taylor was direct and to the point. ″Are you going to arrest my dad and I?″

Agent Matthews shook his head. ″No, that's not why I'm here. I'm just here to escort you down to the PRT HQ to talk about yesterday.″

Before she thought, Taylor blurted out, ″What about yesterday? That wasn't my fault!″

From the other room her dad's voice boomed out, ″Taylor! Don't talk to the nice PRT agent!″

She could feel her cheeks heat while Agent Matthews' aura changed to show an increase in how amused by her he was. A few minutes later, her dad came back into the living room apparently ready to go. Then something occurred to her. In a rush, Taylor said, ″Dad, I need to grab something from my room. I'll be right back.″

Not waiting for his assent, Taylor ran up the stairs to her room. She quickly located the journal she'd been keeping that documented all of the bullying that the trio had been subjecting her to. It might or might not come in handy. Regardless, it couldn't hurt to have it with her.

Rushing back down the stairs, Taylor exclaimed, ″Okay, I'm ready!″ It was only then that she realized that the PRT agent seemed a bit more tense than he had before her precipitous exit, his purples shifting to more of a bluish tone. She rolled her eyes and waved the sheath of papers at him, then headed out the door.

As Danny and Taylor walked out to the curb, she made note of the fact that the van they were headed towards was unmarked. That coupled with the plainclothes PRT agent they'd sent down to pick them up, made her realize that they really wanted to keep this discreet. Staring at her journal, for the first time, Taylor wondered if there a chance she would finally get something resembling justice.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

An hour later found Taylor listening with interest as the tan and gold attorney her dad had called, a short, rotund man Conrad Spiegel, laid down the law to the purplish gray PRT representative sitting across the desk from them. Though as interesting as she found the conversation, she couldn't help stealing glances at the greenish orange armored figure who stood against the wall on the other side of the desk. Taylor blushed as she realized that she'd once owned Armsmaster logo'ed underwear. Then she shook off that thought as the discussion taking place in front of her heated up.

″Assistant Director Williams, while I am not an expert in Parahuman law, I am aware of the statute which you are quoting. However, there are extenuating circumstances.″

The heavyset man on the other side of the table frowned. ″It doesn't matter what the circumstances are. While accidentally finding out a Ward's identify is not a crime, disseminating that information is. Additionally, the courts have traditionally supported the mandatory signing of nondisclosure agreements upon whose violation there is a charge of a first degree felony carrying a sentence of five to fifteen years and a fine of no less than $50,000. According to all laws and rulings currently in effect in every state of this country, your clients literally have no rights not to sign these NDA's.″ He gestured to the stack of forms on the table next to him.

Mr Spiegel spread his hands flat on the table. Taking a deep breath, he stated, ″In Stratford v. Archimedes, it was found that a Parahuman, even a member of the Protectorate, did not have a right to anonymity when using that same anonymity to commit crimes.″

Assistant Director Williams looked momentarily surprised, although that quickly faded to a guarded expression. ″What does Stratford v. Archimedes have to do with your clients being aware of a Ward's identity?″

Mr Spiegel turned to Taylor, who had been ready for this moment. ″Taylor, if you would please pick a random passage from your journal to read out loud?″

Doing her best to hide the tremble in her fingers, Taylor opened her journal to an entry from the previous spring. ″March 17, 2010. 7:52 am. Sophia Hess knocked my books from out of my arms while Emma Barnes and Madison Clements made comments about my clumsiness. 9:21 am. Sophia Hess tripped me on the stairs, making me skin my knees. 10:56 am. Emma Barnes made comments about me being responsible for my mother's death while Sophia Hess and Madison Clements boxed me in and made it impossible to get by them. 12:33 pm. Sophia Hess dumped her soda over my head while I was trying to eat lunch in the cafeteria. 1:57 pm-″

Before she could continue, Assistant Director Williams interrupted, ″What exactly is going on here? What are these allegations?″

Taylor started to say something, but at a gesture from Mr Spiegel she subsided. Instead, the lawyer spoke, ″What this is, sir, is a bullying campaign led by a Protectorate Ward, to terrorize my client in her civilian identity, while occasionally using her powers in that same effort.″

The other man's eyes narrowed. ″You have some proof of this? That a Ward used their powers in such a manner?″

The question was addressed more to Taylor than her attorney, but she didn't respond, despite the growing sense of anger within her, as Mr Spiegel again gestured for her to stay calm. It almost sounded as if the man were calling her a liar. Plus, she couldn't help but notice he seemed more concerned about Sophia using her powers in some manner than the bullying itself. Somehow, Taylor held her silence as Mr Spiegel responded, ″Let's just say there have been too many homework assignments and other items that have gone missing to not make us question exactly how Taylor's locker was accessed. Of course, having someone with the Parahuman power to become immaterial, and turn other items immaterial, being one of the involved parties on the bullying side does tend to make one make assumptions.″

Assistant Director Williams sat back in apparent satisfaction, having read between the lines of what the attorney had said, ″So no proof, then. Sign the NDA's or we're going to be in here all day discussing this.″

Taylor could see her dad, whose aura had been growing redder and redder as the proceedings went on, look like he was about to speak. But again, their attorney headed him off, this time with a pat to his shoulder. ″My clients will not be signing a full set of form 2052 NDA's without including addendum 2064.″

Assistant Director Williams slapped the table. ″That is completely unacceptable. Do you think that you're the first shyster whose clients have tried to get a payday off the Protectorate? We have several Thinkers specializing in law whose sole purpose is to prevent these types of frivolous lawsuits. We-″

″Assistant Director, go ahead and add the addendum.″

The person who spoke was the figure who had been silent throughout the proceedings after the initial introductions. Taylor could now see that the Protectorate Leader's greens had dulled immensely since the last time she'd looked at him. She wasn't familiar enough with it to be sure, but she thought the emotion that corresponded with might be guilt. Then again, the hero might just be getting impatient with the proceedings around him.

Meanwhile, the PRT representative had spun around to stare at the figure behind him. ″Armsmaster, sir, I don't think that-″

″Charles, add it on my authority.″

The man looked upset, a reddish tinge now to his aura, but nodded. From a briefcase he had on the table, he pulled a small stapled stack of sheets which he handed to Mr Spiegel to review. From there, Taylor tuned things out until it came time to actually sign the forms.

Afterwards, even as both her dad and their attorney celebrated this as a win, Taylor couldn't bring herself to agree. Not even Armsmaster had indicated that there would be any form of investigation into how Sophia had behaved. Maybe he was just being careful for legal reasons, but then again, maybe the entire thing was going to be swept under the table. Regardless, Taylor thought she was going to need to do something more for her own piece of mind.

A voice interrupted her thoughts, ″A penny for them, kiddo.″

Taylor met her dad's eyes, noting how his reds had dimmed back to blues and greens far faster than she would have expected. ″They're not worth even that much, Dad. But speaking of money, how are we paying this guy? I know the Union signed those contracts, so things aren't as tight as they were, but I also know lawyers are expensive.″

″Never fear, Miss Hebert, I am not charging a thing for this session. My firm made a deal with the Dockworkers Union to provide limited free legal representation in return for the opportunity to negotiate the recent contracts for them. A sort of quid pro quo, if you will. All Daniel here did was take advantage of that. Which reminds me, I'll send over a note indicating that four of the five hours allotted to the Union have been used up for this month. I take it that's satisfactory, Daniel?″ As Mr Spiegel finished, he held out his hand to her dad.

Shaking the offered hand, Danny said, ″Of course it is. I want to thank you for your help.″

Mr Spiegel made a dismissive gesture. ″It wasn't difficult, I can assure you. I really don't like the PRT walking over ordinary people like the 800 lb gorilla that they have become. While I realize we need Parahumans against the greater threats of our world, we must hold them as accountable as anyone else. Now, I must be off. Good day, Daniel, Taylor.″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Later that night, as Taylor lay in bed, she knew that letting go was going to be impossible for her. She would do one of the things that her dad asked to, which was to not attempt to out Sophia in her civilian identity. But there was no reason she couldn't go out and be a hero herself. And maybe, just maybe, if she ran into Shadow Stalker when she was out and about, there'd be an opportunity to show her up. Possibly to embarrass her enough that she would show her true colors. Even if she didn't, Taylor would still know who was the better hero.

With that decision made, Taylor relaxed and was asleep within minutes. For once, nightmares didn't touch her mind as if they agreed with the decision she'd made and knew she'd need all of the rest she could get.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

It was the next day, and Taylor was preparing herself to go out. She stared at herself in the mirror, astonished by how good her costume looked. It was the first time that she had worn all of her suit pieces together at one time and the effect was nothing short of amazing.

The figure in the mirror was encased completely in a brightly glowing blue suit while holding a brighter shield of the same color. While Taylor knew that no one else would be able to see the glowing colors of her suit, she liked it very much anyway. Others would only get to see the dark gray color of her suit, each piece matching the whole, as well as just how perfectly the various pieces fit together.

Examining her reflection, she noted that the Taylor in the mirror bulked larger than she did in real life. Both the jacket and pants that she wore fit her body well, but seemed almost padded compared to the boots and gloves. With her suit on, Taylor's shoulders seemed broader, her chest and legs more muscular. At the same time, her helm and boots made her seem inches taller. It certainly helped disguise her sex. Not that she needed much of a disguise, Taylor thought in disgust. She was still flat as a board. Now if only she could make a ring to help with _that_.

Despite her own rather unflattering opinion of her curves, Taylor was conscious of just how good she felt at the moment, both in a physical and emotional way. She felt incredibly comfortable and equally happy. She wasn't sure that she could attribute this to her suit, but it _was_ the first time she'd worn all of the pieces together. They now enclosed her completely, leaving not one inch of skin exposed.

In some ways, it was almost frightening how well everything fit together. The way the seams of one piece of her suit would seal tracelessly against the next. Almost as if it were made to do that, instead of just being a transformed piece of clothing. Taylor didn't think her visualization was that good when she was making her suit, but maybe it was. Somehow, she'd managed to fit everything together so well it looked as if it were meant to be that way. Still, it was somewhat odd what she'd accomplished.

Another oddity was that her weapons fit themselves to her suit all too well. She didn't have a scabbard for her sword, for example, but when she'd touched it to her back earlier to see how she would go about attaching one, Taylor found that she didn't need it. Instead, her costume, where it fit on her upper back seemed to just absorb the sword, leaving the hilt the perfect height for her to just reach over her shoulder to pull it back out.

The same thing happened to the sickly glowing yellow cudgel that had once been a wooden baseball bat, as well as the smaller crimson knife and baton that sat on either side of her waist. Even the grenades she carried attached themselves around her waist as if they were meant to fit that way, although she only had room for perhaps a dozen. Maybe it should have worried her, how well things fit together, but Taylor was too focused on what she needed to do before she went out tonight.

Like test whether she was now immune to the effects of her own Regurgitation and Rage grenades. Taylor grimaced at the imagery those names evoked, but she had decided they needed better names than yellow and red. And the names evoked the effects of one as well as the originating force of the other. Besides, they sounded cool, as well as being easy to remember, not something to be underestimated if she had to explain them to another Parahuman. Still, Taylor drew the line at calling her club a 'Sick Stick'.

Walking downstairs, Taylor headed to the basement to test her grenades. Once arriving there, she detached a glowing yellow Regurgitation grenade from among the ones attached to her waist. In size, it was slightly smaller than the tennis ball it had once been. There was no feature on the exterior that would show how to activate it. Instead, all Taylor had to do was strike it against another object and it would go off within three seconds, or activate it herself with the link she shared with all of her created items.

For this experiment, Taylor decided to just activate it. There was nothing as dramatic as pulling a pin or even so much as a click once she made her decision. Instead, the grenade just went off in her hand, as a bilious flash of yellow enveloped Taylor and the room around her.

Taylor waited a few seconds, then a smile creased her lips as she realized that the flash hadn't adversely affected her. She shouted, "Yes!" Then followed her exclamation with a fist pump as she considered the increased versatility she now possessed.

Having the ability to knock crowds of enemies out, or send them falling to their knees regurgitating the contents of their stomachs did a great deal to offset one of Taylor's main weakness, her merely human strength. Now if she was swarmed under, or in the grasp of a much stronger opponent, she could just activate one of her grenades to allow her to return to attacking.

Taylor considered testing the Rage grenade as well, but considering the area of effect seemed to be a sphere about twenty-five feet in diameter, that seemed like a really bad idea in the confined space of the basement. It might even blow the ceiling completely off, wrecking the house. No, as much as it pained her to not be completely thorough, in this case discretion was the better part of valor.

Now something Taylor could test was whether the crimson rings she had adorning every finger of her hand as well as her thumbs would effect the world around her through her armor. She'd made so many of the glowing red rings that she had more than enough for to allow her to put two rings on every one of her digits, although she'd left two spots free, for a total of eighteen. The last two rings Taylor wore were her Regeneration rings.

She had even put two Wrath rings on her toes, despite the slightly awkward way they felt. That was likely caused by the fact she'd never worn a toe ring before rather than any negative aspect of the rings themselves. Still, if they worked the way she hoped, Taylor would be able to execute kicks as well as punches that delivered tremendous force, as well as stunning her opponents.

To test whether the rings would work through her armor, Taylor had dragged a three foot by four foot plate of slightly rust sheet steel over to the middle of the basement. Where it had come from, she wasn't completely sure, but it was likely her dad had appropriated it from one of the rare salvage jobs the Dockworkers Union had participated in over the years. Danny probably had meant to make something from it, but had never gotten around to it.

It wasn't likely he'd miss it after all these years, so Taylor was going to use it to test her punches and kicks. It was all that she could do to prop it up against the broken kitchen chair, so that it was more or less vertical. The damn thing was _heavy._ Now, all she had to do was punch the plate while activating her ring.

With visions of the force staying within her armor and mangling her hand and arm, Taylor tentatively reached out and tapped the plate, while simultaneously activating her ring. The effect on the plate was way out of proportion to the speed and force of the blow she'd struck.

With a ringing "Clang!" the plate hurled itself backwards, crushing the chair and slamming into the basement's cinder block wall with tremendous force and an equally loud sound. Taylor stood there, stunned, as she noted that the plate was now embedded partway into the wall, slightly crushing the concrete cinder blocks behind it. Slowly elation replaced her shock and she began to grin in exultation before a frown suddenly overtook her features.

Okay, this was bad. While nominally a success, if her dad ever came down here it was unlikely he'd miss the new edition to the north wall of their basement. Staring around, Taylor was struck by inspiration.

It took every last bit of strength she possessed, but after several minutes of tugging and yanking, Taylor was able to drag the large and heavy work bench that took up most of one wall over to the other wall. Now you couldn't see where the metal was embedded into the wall at all. Rearranging a half dozen other items to cover the change took only a few more minutes.

Taylor's grin of relief was short lived as something else made itself apparent. She'd just exerted herself to the full extent of her strength for at least twenty minutes and she wasn't even sweating. Even now, Taylor wasn't aware of feeling particularly hot or cold. Instead, she was perfectly comfortable.

Additionally, her muscles, which should have been screaming from the aforementioned exertion, felt relaxed and ready to go again. All Taylor could think was that her suit regulated her internal temperature so well that it wouldn't really allow her to sweat. At the same time, the addition of another Regeneration ring gave her increased endurance, allowing her to operate at or near her physical limits for a significant time.

It wasn't exactly superstrength or superspeed, but not being a sweaty, aching mess at the end of a fight or patrol was nothing to sneeze at. Even better, Taylor would be able to continue moving and fighting long after a normal opponent would be exhausted.

Taylor became aware of the only drawback of the increased endurance as her stomach suddenly rumbled. Since it was only ten o'clock in the morning and she'd eaten breakfast barely three hours earlier, her hunger could be attributed to the Regeneration rings' effects.

Well, Taylor decided, if a rumbling stomach was the worst effect that her abilities had upon her, that wasn't a bad trade off. With a giggle that rumbled up all the way from her belly, she ran up the stairs to grab herself a snack.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor lay under her covers, waiting for her dad to go to sleep. She knew she wouldn't have to wait long. Danny Hebert had always been a sound sleeper, but since she'd given him the Regeneration ring, he slept deeper than ever, as if his body was recovering from some grievous wound. Taylor suspected that if anything, it was more of a wound of the spirit, and he was just about recovered. Still, at least for now, she would be able come and go if she as she pleased so long as she was careful and quiet. Tonight, she planned to be both.

Finally the wait was over. Taylor tossed the covers aside and got up. She already had her costume on. All she had to do was pick up her shield, attach her various weapons, and she was ready to go.

It was easy to make her way quietly down the steps from the second floor. It was as if her suit wanted her to be silent. Then again, if her suit was able to absorb and disperse the force of a blow, there was no reason it couldn't do the same for a footstep. Regardless, Taylor was as light on her feet as any cat as she approached her own back door.

The same back door whose hinges she'd oiled the day before until they no longer squeaked in any way, shape, form, or fashion. It was almost eerie how quiet everything was, Taylor thought, as she eased open the door and hurried outside.

Surrounded by the frosty air of the early days of March, Taylor was perfectly comfortable in her suit. Not too hot, not too cold, instead she was just right like the porridge in the story. Still, she needed to get moving. After a careful look around, Taylor took off at a fast jog in the direction of the Docks.

As Taylor ran, she marveled at the way her body now operated. While she grew slightly short of breath after the first fifteen minutes, that was the extent of how winded she became. Her body worked like a well-oiled machine, arms and legs flashing past one another while her lungs pumped air in and out of her body. Taylor had even taken the precaution of eating a rather large late night snack to stave off any hunger she might experience because of her energy expenditure.

Not that she was dwelling on that right at the moment. Instead, she was reveling in the sheer joy of running. Unfortunately, it was a joy that was abruptly cut off a few minutes later as a scream rang out in the night. It was a woman's voice, full of fear and anguish, and surprisingly loud, as if she were right around the corner.

Coming to an abrupt stop, Taylor tried to figure out exactly where the sound had come from. She'd traveled perhaps five miles by this point and was midway into the Dock area, not quite to the large warehouses that used to store the goods shipped into the town, but definitely past several of the smaller factories that had used those same goods. Around her was a mass of smaller surface streets and alleys where anything could, and often did, happen. Including drug deals, and worse.

Taylor was carefully examining the area around her as she stalked forward. It was at that moment, she heard a hard, cruel male laugh that she knew was coming from up ahead and to her left. Moving quickly, Taylor sprinted towards the mouth of an alley that seemed to be the origin of the sound. Sounds, she realized, as she heard other jeers and laughs in male voices punctuated by low sobs. Arriving there, Taylor froze at her first sight of the events that were taking place right in front of her.

Three figures surrounded two others on the ground, their auras a nauseating mixture of pinks, reds, yellows, and blacks. One of the figures on the ground, the one on top of the other, matched the first threes' auras. The final figure was a mixture of icy grays, pale blues, and sickly pallid greens, as if all but a handful of emotions had been leeched from her.

Because it was a woman on the ground in front of Taylor. A woman surrounded by men. Men who were...

It only took Taylor a split second to truly comprehend what she was seeing. Four men sexually assaulting a woman. Of all of the things she'd expected to encounter on the docks, this hadn't even made her list. The only real crime Taylor had expected to encounter had been theft, or possible a pusher dealing drugs. Now she was face to face with a crime far more heinous than any she'd expected. And it made her _furious._ As red rage tore through her very being, Taylor acted without hesitation.

Grabbing for her sword, Taylor smoothly pulled it over her shoulder. Racing forward, she swung it viciously at one of the figures standing there cheering the heinous act before her on. Somehow, she kept enough presence of mind to strike him with the flat of her sword instead of the edge. So instead of cutting him in half, the man was merely hit with a blow that shattered his left arm and hurled him against another man standing beside him, sending them both to the ground in a confused tangle of limbs.

Taylor didn't stop to appreciate her work, but instead, with a howl containing anger beyond belief, slammed her shield into the last remaining figure on his feet. At the same time, she triggered the strongest of the rings upon her left hand. The crimson pulse of force hammered into the man hurling him into the opposite wall of the alley as the brittle sound of breaking bones accompanied both impacts.

Even as the figure on the ground seemed to understand that something was wrong and had begun rising from his victim, Taylor savagely kicked him in the side, while triggering one of her toe rings. This man's movement was the most dramatic, as he struck the wall across from her nearly ten feet up, the sound of breaking bones accompanying all three impacts; when he was hit, when he hit the wall, and when he hit the ground.

Surveying the scene around her, Taylor felt a cold sense of satisfaction at the devastation she'd wrought. A wolfish smile on her lips, she considered dealing out even more punishment for the crime she'd witnessed when she became aware of the broken sobs of the figure crumpled at her feet. It was like a being doused with cold water. Able to think again, Taylor quickly knelt down and reached out a reassuring hand to the woman... girl, rather, who flinched back from her.

Realizing that because of what had happened to her, the girl needed to know that Taylor was a female as well. Taylor spoke in a quiet tone to reassure her, "It's okay. You're going to be okay. No one's going to hurt you anymore. I promise."

Slowly, the huddled figure untangled itself enough for Taylor to see her face. The girl might have been a couple of years older than herself. With long blonde hair and a pretty face, she was wearing clothes that Taylor wouldn't have been caught dead in, a skimpy backless top and short skirt. They were also entirely inappropriate for the current temperature which was hovering in the forties. Still, from their quality, the girl clearly wasn't a prostitute. Which begged the answer to the question, what exactly was she doing here in this part of the Docks at one in the morning?

Still in the same reassuring tone, Taylor asked, "Are you okay? Are you injured?"

The girl blinked uncertainly, tears still pouring down her cheeks, at the sound of Taylor's voice. A feminine voice coming from the featureless figure in front of her. Then with a desperate, convulsive movement, she pulled up her underwear, followed by pulling down her skirt. With an increase in the volume of her sobs, she hurled herself into Taylor's arms.

It took everything that Taylor had to not flinch at girl's sudden movement. Instead, she somehow managed to get her own arms around the other, dropping her sword to the ground in the process. Awkwardly patting her on the back, Taylor again asked, "Are you okay? Are you injured?"

In a low, bitter tone, the girl finally muttered, "You mean other than having just been r-raped?" Taking a swift breath, the blonde shook her head. Her voice was a bit more even as she said, "N-no. I'm n-not hurt. They didn't... they threatened to cut me if I fought back. So I didn't. And they didn't."

The blonde pulled back from Taylor's embrace, staring in wonder at her savior. "I'm Hanna. I came here with this guy named Ray who I met in a club because he said we could score some blow and he would share it with me. But he was only bringing me here so that they could all... I can't believe they did that to me, I..." The pain and stress in Hanna's voice was evident as she turned her face away from Taylor, her mouth a thin, compressed line as broken sobs again shook her slim shoulders.

Taylor put a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. It hurt her to see the girl's aura so cold and empty, many of the colors dull and faded to near transparency. "Well, they're not going to hurt anyone else. Not ever again. So-"

From behind Taylor, an angry voice interrupted her, "Wrong, bitch!"

A sudden gunshot rang out as Taylor felt something impact the back of her head.


	6. Chapter Six: In the Kingdom of the Blin

**Chapter Six: In the Kingdom of the Blind**

Hanna huddled there, utterly horrified, as one of young men who'd just assaulted her shot her rescuer in the back of the head. The shouted curse, the flash of the shot and its impact, all seemed to happen in slow motion. That was when things got really bad, although not for the reasons someone might think.

Hanna hadn't really seen exactly what had happened to the men who'd raped her earlier, other than a brief impression of the last one momentarily airborne. Sitting up afterwards, she'd noticed all of them appeared incapacitated, unconscious and hurt, but had no real idea exactly what the woman who'd saved her had done to them. Instead, all she'd heard was a series of screams and thuds, then every one of them was lying on the ground around her rescuer seemingly injured. To her horror, Hanna saw that was no longer the case.

When the figure had reared up behind Suit Girl (she not having a better temporary name for the woman dressed in the enveloping gray suit who'd rescued her) Hanna had seen the gun far too late to warn the other. Even as she opened her mouth to scream a warning, the gun fired, the shot sounding incredibly loud in the narrow alley as the bullet apparently struck the other girl directly in the back of her head.

The scream in Hanna's throat never vocalized because of how stiff her chest felt as sheer terror paralyzed her. She was certain she was going to be the next to die. Except her rescuer hadn't died. Instead, Gray Girl had slowly turned her head to face her attacker, then screamed loudly enough for them both. What stole Hanna's breath and had her finally scuttling backwards using both her hands and feet in even greater fear than before was that the scream wasn't one of fear. It was one of homicidal rage.

Her back now flat against a wall, Hanna watched in horror as Suit Girl grabbed her sword from where she'd dropped it earlier, rose to her feet in one continual motion, and _cut the man's hand off._ Some other effect occurred at the same time, as the man was blasted backwards, striking the wall behind him as if he'd been struck by a wrecking ball rather than one slim blade. Only peripherally, did Hanna register the brittle noise of the man's bones breaking. Still, it was a sound she would never forget.

Hanna's eyes turned from the broken figure on the ground to the standing figure who'd broken him. Gray Girl surveyed the area around her, then slowly turned back to Hanna. Her voice sounded cruel, still full of an incandescent anger. ″Call the police. I'm going to continue patrolling.″

What? She was leaving? Hanna gasped out, ″What about the guy whose hand you cut off? He's going to die if someone doesn't help him!″

Suit Girl seemed to ponder Hanna's words as she stood there. There was a razor sharp edge to her voice as she finally stated, ″Help him yourself. Or not. Call the cops first, though.″

Hanna stumbled to her feet and slowly approached the man who'd just lost his hand, carefully navigating around the spot where his hand lay, looking like a grotesque overgrown insect. She was certain he was the same one who'd earlier taken her phone. Giving him a once over, to her inexperienced eyes he appeared to be merely unconscious, the slow rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was alive. Oddly, the stump of his arm wasn't even bleeding. Instead, it was as if it had been somehow cauterized. Yet it didn't look burned. Somehow that sword, that so closely matched the woman's suit and shield, had stopped the bleeding before it started.

Shivering, Hanna patted his pants pockets, looking for her phone. It only took her a moment to find it in his right front pocket and retrieve it. Rising to her feet, she took a step back. Hanna started to dial 911, then stopped, suddenly indecisive. ″What do I tell them happened? The authorities, I mean. Do you want me to hide the fact that you were here? That you saved me?″

Suit Girl turned towards Hanna and took a step in her direction, making her flinch back involuntarily. The woman stopped, then shook her head. Suit Girl's tone was slightly gentler as she said, ″No. Tell them the truth. Everything that happened. Warn them that this is only the first step towards ridding Brockton Bay of the vermin that is infesting our city. Tell them exactly that.″

Hanna admired the steadiness of her own voice as she asked one final question, ″Who should I tell them did this?″

Suit Girl stood up there, her back ramrod straight, intently focused upon one of the downed rapists. ″Tell them... tell them that Carnelian did it.″

With that, Suit Gi... Carnelian strode off out of the alley, fading almost soundlessly into the darkness, leaving Hanna to make her call. Hitting the familiar numbers, Hanna waited for a voice to answer.

″911, what's your emergency?″

″M-my name is Hanna Stroud. I need to report a crime. I was just raped by four men in an alleyway off of Twenty-second and Broadmoor. Can you send an ambulance?″

The voice on the line grew alarmed, ″Miss Stroud, are you currently in danger? Do you need immediate police assistance?″

″No... I don't know. I'm hurt, but I'll be all right. The ambulance is for the men who attacked me. _She_ hurt them badly.″

If anything, the voice on the line sounded even more alarmed than before. ″Miss? Did something happen to the men who attacked you?″

Hanna found herself nodding along as she spoke, ″Yes, they're all badly injured. She put them down like rabid animals.″ She refused to regret the vicious satisfaction that colored her voice as she considered her attackers' injuries.

″She? Who is this other woman you're referencing? Is this woman a Parahuman?″

″Yes. A cape who called herself Carnelian took out all four of the men who attacked me. They're all going to need ambulances as broken bones are the least of their injuries. She cut the hand off of one of them.″

The voice on the line sounded worried. ″Miss Stroud, I've alerted paramedics and they're on their way to your location. I've also alerted the PRT and they are sending agents as well. Since a Parahuman was involved, they'll be handling the investigation. Is there a safe place you can wait for them to arrive?″

Hanna looked around at the empty alley devoid of all life but the bodies of her attackers. Shrugging, she stated, ″This spot seems as safe as any other. It's not as if any of them are ever going to be able to hurt me again.″

It was true. While all of the men seemed to still be alive, they were both unconscious and badly enough injured that it was unlikely they'd be a threat to any able bodied adult for the foreseeable future.

Still, Hanna appreciated the fact that the 911 operator stayed on the line with her until the first of the PRT vans screeched to a stop at the mouth of the alley. It was only when the first of the uniformed troops carrying a bulky container on his back came running up to Hanna that she told the other woman thank you and goodbye.

Holding her phone in a death grip, Hanna walked forward to talk to the authorities and tell them her story.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

The next morning, when Taylor woke up after an excellent night's sleep, the events of the night before seemed to have taken on an almost dreamlike quality. At least as far as her feelings about those events were concerned. Still, she remembered every one of her actions. Every step she took, every word she said, and every act of violence she'd engaged in.

Taylor remembered as clear as day the brittle rattling sound that bones made as they broke under the hammer of her Wrath. She remembered the lack of resistance as her sword took off the hand of the man who'd shot her in the head. She remembered _everything_.

Shouldn't she feel revolted by what had happened, Taylor wondered? At least have missed some sleep? But when Taylor searched her feelings, there was nothing of horror or regret for what she'd done. She beaten several men nearly to death, and cut the hand off another, and felt nothing except a certain sense of satisfaction at having done so.

Somehow, Taylor knew that it wasn't normal to feel this way. She wondered if feelings of horror were going to sneak up on her and overwhelm her at a later date. With a shiver of almost dread, she then wondered if maybe they _wouldn't_.

Sliding out of bed and putting on her running clothes was automatic. Her Regeneration rings in place on two of her fingers, Taylor went out for her usual run, still deep in thought.

As she ran a route that had become familiar, Taylor pondered the events of the night before. It wasn't like her to react with such overwhelming violence. But when she'd run into that group of rapists, she'd just been so angry. It had been almost like a drug, coursing through her veins and filling her with an urge to crush the ones who made her feel this way, as if she was some figure out of the Old Testament.

The urge had receded when she'd gone to check on the rapists' victim. Hanna's distress had been so intense and genuine, that it had brought out powerful feelings of tenderness and protectiveness that Taylor hadn't even known existed within herself. She'd done her best to comfort the girl with soothing words and a hug. But her own words had rang hollow when one of the rapists, apparently uninjured in the fight, had shot Taylor directly in the back of the head.

Even now, Taylor had a hard time understanding the sheer degree of rage she'd felt at that moment. Partly, it was a sense that the man had made her a liar. That he had thrown her words back in her face as he violated every single thing that she believed in. That any sense of safety she could provide to the people of her city was just a facade, as hollow and brittle as a skull of a rotting corpse.

It had ignited something within Taylor. Something primal and dangerous, that burned inside of her like the heart of a star. Blazing, consuming, all encompassing. It had certainly consumed Taylor last night as she could barely understand why she'd said the words she had to Hanna. She hadn't felt angry at the girl, even during the height of her rage at the men. There had been nothing of blame in the way Taylor had viewed Hanna. Rather, it had as if once the girl was saved, rescued from her terrible fate, it was time to move on. To find others who deserved to have her wrath unleashed upon them.

Move on Taylor had. She'd run through the Docks for over an hour, crisscrossing the streets and alleys there, even as sirens wailed in the distance. But she'd come across no other criminals during that time, not even so much as a dealer or pimp.

In the end, Taylor had gone home, entering as easily as she'd exited hours earlier. Then she'd gone upstairs and slept like a baby.

Taylor leaped over a pothole as she considered what kind of person would be able to sleep after maiming someone. She didn't feel like a bad person. What she felt like was that the bad person in the picture had been the one who'd gotten maimed. After all, the bastard had shot her straight in the head...

Taylor stopped, chest heaving a bit, as she thought about being shot for the first time since the night before. What it had felt like. What had happened to her helmet and in return, her head within. All of which boiled down to absolutely nothing.

Stretching a bit so she wouldn't tighten up too much, Taylor pondered the sheer lack of reaction she'd felt from the bullet's impact. Truthfully, she had no idea where the bullet had even gone, whether it had ricocheted off of her or simply dropped to the ground, her rage making the information unimportant at the time. Taylor considered all of the possible repercussions to getting shot, but couldn't think of a single one.

Her helmet was unmarked, something which Taylor had checked the evening before after getting undressed for bed. The impact of the shot itself hadn't seemingly had any effect on her head, protected as it was within her armor's embrace. Thinking back, Taylor realized that the blow hadn't so much as rocked her head forward. If it wasn't for the sound of the gunshot and the taunting curse accompanying it, she might not have even known she'd been shot. Taylor was pretty certain that there hadn't been any real risk to her at all from getting shot.

She began running again, far faster than before, this time heading in the direction of home. Despite not being hurt, despite not regretting the injuries she'd inflicted on the men from the night before, despite the way her mind seemed to be wired these days, Taylor Hebert suddenly wanted a hug from her dad more than anything else in the entire world.

Running up the front steps to her house, Taylor burst through the front door. ″Dad, I'm home!″

″Breakfast is almost ready, kiddo. Why don't you- humph!″

Taylor had almost tackled her dad as she launched herself into a desperate hug. She held Danny tightly as he commented in an amused voice, ″You're a little sweaty, kiddo.″

Finally pulling herself away from him, Taylor couldn't help the smile that creased her lips as she saw her dad's aura. He looked as happy and healthy as anyone could be, she decided. She even smiled when her dad asked, ″Everything okay, Taylor? Your run go okay?″

″It went great. I'm just happy to see you.″

Danny Hebert rubbed his forehead a bit in puzzlement. ″You do seem to be a lot happier these days. That thing with the PRT not getting you down too much?″

Taylor shrugged. ″Nah. It's good. I'm not even thinking about that. Plus I feel great. Physically, I mean.″

Danny looked at her, really looked at her, his head tilted a bit to the side in consideration. ″You are looking good these days, kiddo. I think you're finally starting to grow up. I swear you're at least an inch taller than you were in the fall.″

Taylor started. She was? ″Really? I hadn't even noticed.″ Of course, at least part of that was because all she'd worn to school for the last year and a half was drab, shapeless clothing in an effort to blend in, to hide from her bullies. Damn, but Taylor was glad she wasn't hiding any more.

Danny nodded. ″Yeah. I suspect your pants are a bit on the short side these days. And you've definitely lost whatever fat you might have once had around your waist. How about this Saturday we make a trip to the mall and pick you up a few things? Pants and such?″

Taylor chewed her lower lip indecisively. ″What about bills? Are we still behi-″

Her dad gently interrupted her, ″All caught up. Plus I've put away a bit. We can't go hog wild, but we can pick up a few things for you. Plus, we can look for bargains.″

Taylor gave her dad another quick hug, saying, ″I'm in, then.″ With that, she headed upstairs, calling over her shoulder, ″And I'm starving!″

Taylor could hear the sound of her dad's laughter following her as she hit the bathroom.

When she finished taking a shower and dried off, Taylor took a good long look in the mirror, something she typically avoided doing most days. She had always felt that her long curly dark hair was her best and most feminine feature. In many ways, it still was. However, looking in the mirror at her reflection, Taylor could see the positive changes within herself.

She definitely looked taller, Taylor decided, staring at her naked figure. Her stomach appeared to be completely flat and toned, although her hips were still mostly nonexistent. Turning to the side, there was at least _some_ evidence visible that she was a girl. Still, was there something she was missing?

Turning back to face the mirror, Taylor leaned in until she was closer, carefully examining her face. Then it hit her. Where had her acne gone?

Not that Taylor had skin issues nearly as bad as a lot of teens did, but there was usually at least the occasional pimple visible somewhere on her face. However, that was no longer the case. Taylor couldn't keep the smile off her face as she saw that her skin was as smooth and glowingly healthy as the models in the acne commercials on television. Thank you, Regeneration ring, she thought in amusement.

Even if her boobs never developed, at least she would have clear skin. Taylor giggled at the silliness of her thoughts all the way to her room.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Emily Piggot tossed a folder down on the table in front of her and sat down heavily. Surveying the two Parahumans and her own assistant, who'd been waiting on her, she suppressed a sigh of tiredness. Last night had been spent mostly sleepless as her chronic back pain kept her awake. Instead, Emily made sure her voice was crisp as she stated, ″I need the run down on last night's incident.″

Assistant Director Charles Williams took his cues from her. ″Director Piggot, four men were hospitalized, two with life threatening injuries, after they were interrupted in the course of a crime by a new Parahuman, code name Carnelian. Carnelian is a woman, described as approximately six feet tall and slender, wearing an all gray suit and carrying a sword and shield. She left the scene after telling the victim of the crime to call the police, which she promptly did. Of course, the 911 operator alerted the PRT when it was brought to her attention that a Parahuman was involved. We've taken over the investigation.″

Emily digested this for a few seconds. ″Did the PRT or Carnelian herself come up the name? Also, is there any history associated with the name?″

Miss Militia stated, ″The rape victim indicated that the woman who rescued her told her to tell the authorities that Carnelian had done it, so she clearly chose the name. That it was but the first step in ridding the city of the vermin that infested it. As far as the name itself is concerned, there has never been a Parahuman who has used it.″

Still in the same crisp tone, Emily asked, ″Suggestions? Connotations?″

Armsmaster leaned forward, almost as if deliberately attempting to add forcefulness to his words. Emily considered it one of his more annoying habits. ″Carnelian is a form of Chalcedony, usually red or orange, somewhat glassy and translucent. Its name comes from the Latin word meaning 'flesh'. In antiquity, Carnelian was believed to help timid speakers become eloquent and bold. Ancient warriors wore Carnelian around their neck for courage and physical power to conquer their enemies. I have more information, by the way.″

Emily wasn't surprised that Armsmaster had carefully researched the name. Whatever other faults the man had, he was thorough in everything he did. She gestured for him to continue as you never knew what small bit of information might later prove to be important. ″In Egypt, it was worn by master architects to show their rank of builder, and alchemists of the Middle Ages used it as a boiling stone to activate the energy of other forms of Chalcedony. It was once believed to prevent illness and the Plague. The ancient Egyptians called Carnelian 'the setting sun.' In its orange hues, they identified it with the receptive or passive female energies, and associated it with the fertile menstrual blood of the mother goddess, Isis. In its red, red-orange to reddish brown shades, they considered it the active male energy stone, recognized by its glowing vibrant color. Carnelian can also be worn to enhance passion, love, and desire.″

The others sat, appearing to digest the info dump. Emily slowly shook her head. ″Well, I think it's safe to say that the Parahuman going by Carnelian is not attempting to enhance passion, love, or desire. Her actions speak of firm bent towards violent vigilantism. We need to nip that in the bud if possible. Anything further on the name before we move on?″

Miss Militia stated, ″It is possible that several of the meanings associated with the word are important to her; from the boldness of the way Carnelian spoke, to conquering her enemies, to the fact that as a female she undergoes menstruation. Also, the color red is often associated with anger. I only mention it because the witness, Hanna Stroud, indicated that Carnelian appeared _very_ angry with the men who had assaulted her. The actual word she used was 'berserk.'″

Charles Williams muttered, ″Angry enough to nearly kill all four of those men.″

Miss Militia gave him a narrow eyed look. ″Considering those four men had just sexually assaulted a young woman, and then shortly afterwards, one of them attempted to kill Carnelian for subduing them, I don't consider her reaction to be undue force.″

Emily took charge of the meeting. ″Perhaps, perhaps not. Any ideas on Carnelian's powerset? How she subdued four adult males? Is she a brute?″

Armsmaster shook his head. ″Unknown, but initially it appears unlikely. None of the men are conscious yet, so we cannot question them. However, Miss Stroud told us that when Carnelian was shot in the back of the head, her reaction was to pick up her sword and cut the shooter's hand off. The weapon, which may or may not have actually been a sword, not only parted the man from his hand, but knocked him several feet away and into a brick wall hard enough to break his bones. Since every one of the suspects had broken bones, I think we're dealing with some kind of Striker ability, rather than a brute. That the amputee didn't bleed out seems to further support this theory as his wound remained static after being inflicted.″

Emily stared at him, digesting the information. ″How do you explain Carnelian surviving a gunshot wound to the back of the head?″

Miss Militia took that one, stating, ″Carnelian was observed by Miss Stroud to be wearing some kind of featureless dark gray uniform or armor of unknown toughness. The helm of her suit was able to stop a bullet with no apparently adverse reaction to Carnelian herself. Unfortunately, Miss Stroud did not notice whether Carnelian's helmet was damaged by the bullet, but the woman herself appeared uninjured.″

Emily restated the information as she understood it. ″So what we have here is a vigilante Parahuman, code name Carnelian. She is a female, approximately six foot tall. She's currently running around in dark gray armor and using a sword and shield. Her gear may or may not be imbued with some type of Breaker effect, or the effect may come from within herself.″

Armsmaster stepped in at that point. ″She may be a Tinker, instead. I could generate all of the effects seen last night using similar gear created through my own Tinker ability.″

Piggot almost pointed out how often Armsmaster, as a Tinker himself, seemed predisposed to believe that all new Parahumans were Tinkers under the flimsiest of initial evidence, until proven otherwise. Instead, she merely stated, ″All right, so we'll assign her Striker 3 and Tinker 3, until we have more information. The biggest problem is that she's announced a crusade against the criminals of Brockton Bay. I can't see that going down well with any of the Parahuman gangs here. If she encounters them...″ Emily massaged the bridge of her nose for a moment. Finally, she said, ″Let's be on the lookout for Carnelian. We'll try to recruit her to the Protectorate for now. Be alert, everyone. You know how long solo heroes, especially vigilantes, typically last on their own.″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor finished her schoolwork by noon, including the half hour she spent on the Italian learning tapes she'd checked out of the Public Library. After some research, she'd decided on Italian for her required foreign language credit. So far, the language seemed fairly easy. Then again, it was surprising how easy all of her schoolwork was when no one was sabotaging her homework and classes on a daily basis.

That left her with the afternoon to focus on cape career, as well as learning more about her power. Because if she was going to continue to go out at night, something which wasn't really up for debate, then she needed to be as ready as possible for any possible scenario she might encounter.

Taylor still didn't know why she'd given Hanna the name Carnelian when asked who she was. It was one of several names that she'd briefly considered when she'd first thought about a cape name. But it hadn't even been one of her favorites. Still, it had been the first thing that she'd thought of when the girl had asked her question. And like everything else that had happened last night, Taylor didn't regret giving out the name she had.

Last night _had_ gone surprisingly well after all. Taylor had saved the girl from the men who had hurt her and dealt with them appropriately. However, she was under no misapprehensions as to what would have happened if it had been Lung or Kaiser she confronted instead of four normal humans. If Taylor went up against one of the more dangerous Parahumans out there, it was likely she would die unless she was better prepared.

Taylor knew that because she didn't have any additional strength or durability as a result of her becoming a Parahuman, she needed to equalize things as much as possible with her gear. She suspected that she'd barely touched the surface of what she could make, although without experimentation she'd never know for sure. Thus today's exercise.

Taylor held the cheap necklace in her hands. She was going to try to do something completely different from anything that she'd ever tried before. Since she'd already attempted to push protection into a ring and it had failed completely, Taylor had tentatively concluded that it might just be impossible to imbue something very small with that ability. She also didn't think the necklace would make a better platform for imbuing protection, even if it was slightly larger.

No, instead of protection in a purely physical sense, Taylor was going to attempt to push strength/durability into the necklace. It would help increase her survivability when fighting truly dangerous Parahumans. The only problem Taylor could see with what she was trying to do was that she just wasn't sure exactly what emotion the resulting item would require for its creation.

Taylor had spent quite some time cataloging the emotions she was sure of. And even some of the ones she wasn't. So far, she'd figured out quite a few, and suspected a whole lot more, all of which she had written down in her notebook. So far, she most fairly confident of the following list:

Strong Blue: Protection, Integrity, Security, Trust, Loyalty

Weak Blue: Coldness, Fear, Cowardice

Strong Red: Anger, Rage, Wrath

Weak Red: Irritation, Annoyance, Bothered

Strong Green: Health, Healing, Earth

Weak Green: Envy, Jealousy, Guilt

Strong Yellow: Joy, Energetic, Warm

Weak Yellow: Sadness, Sorrow, Instability

Strong Pink: Passion, Love, Desire

Weak Pink: Immaturity, ?

Strong Gray: Security, Reliability, Strength of Character

Weak Gray: Weakness, Exhaustion

Strong Orange: Courage, Confident, Friendly

Weak Orange: Ignorant, Foolish

Strong Purple: Noble, Ambitious

Weak Purple: Moody, ?

Strong Black: Death, Evil, Killer

Weak Black: Cruel, ?

Strong Brown: Earthy, ?

Weak Brown: Conservative, ?

Strong Tan: ?, ?

Weak Tan: ?, ?

Strong White: Innocent, ?

Weak White: ?, ?

Strong Silver: ?, ?

Weak Silver: ?, ?

Strong Gold: ?, ?

Weak Gold: Egotistical, ?

Taylor had written question marks where there had been colors within the auras of the people she'd read with no obvious connotation. Plus, she was absolutely certain that there were even more emotions within the auras of those surrounding her that she hadn't even come close enough to identifying as to even write a question mark beside the color they represented.

A lot of the information she'd written out wouldn't make sense to anyone but herself. After all, even the terms 'Strong' and 'Weak' didn't mean precisely what they would to someone just reading the word.

To Taylor, 'Strong' meant the positive, radiance of a healthy color in someone's aura, most often associated with a healthy emotion. On the other hand, 'Weak' meant the mostly sickening looking shades that seemed to almost infect someone's aura as a result of a negative emotion or experience. With the exception of red, that is. To Taylor, the various shades and varieties of red seemed to all be tied to equally varying degrees of anger.

Still, that didn't answer the question of how would she make herself stronger or more durable using the knowledge she currently had on auras to imbue an item. Taylor gnawed her lip as she considered her list. Maybe if she could combine red and brown? Could colors even be combined? Did she even know enough about brown to be sure how it would affect an item? Taylor decided it was time to find out.

Eyes closed, Taylor focused her attention on the necklace in her hands. It was a simple piece of costume jewelry, cheap and silver plated with a dangling ballerina ornament that had seemed so cool to her at eight years old. Focusing her mind on the idea of being stronger, tougher, and generally harder to injure, Taylor allowed herself to again experience the emotional reaction of being shot.

Rage tore through Taylor, along with a desire for physical violence so intense, it took her breath away. Somehow she held onto that feeling, while at the same time reaching out for her sudden desire for comfort that morning, the sensation of being held in her dad's arms. Through all of this, she tried desperately to touch the earth. Her brain almost blazing from all of the emotions swirling through it, Taylor _pushed_ that feeling into the necklace in her hands.

And just like that, the necklace she held changed and became something else. It was thicker and flatter, with a familiar odd slickness to her touch. Taylor opened her eyes, feeling a crushing sense of disappointment. The necklace blazed a familiar crimson. Then she looked closer, feeling the disappointment slowly fade as a sense of curiosity replaced it. The necklace might appear red at first glance, but there was something odd about it.

Taylor could see strange lines within the red. Lines getting brighter. Lines that slowly pulsed every shade of the rainbow and more, utterly overwhelming the glowing crimson, then fading away, only to reappear again several seconds later and do it all over again. What the hell had she made?

The physical appearance of the necklace looked quite a bit different from its source material, something Taylor was becoming used to. Where before it had been a simple silvery chain, now it was the same slick gray material as all of her items. It had also widened out to almost an inch across, while at the same time flattening out slightly. The necklace also seemed utterly seamless, although Taylor was able to flex and move the material as if it were a finely woven metal mesh.

Taylor noticed there was no longer a clasp allowing it to be opened and fastened, and she had no idea how to even put the thing on. After all, the overall diameter of the thing had shrank and didn't look as if it would any longer fit over her head. Deciding to just try to put it over her head despite the thing's too small size, Taylor took it in both hands and raised it just over her head.

When Taylor went to try to tug it on her head, the strangest thing happened. It was as if the necklace lengthened somehow, although it hadn't felt the least bit stretchy a moment before. Regardless, it now encircled Taylor's slim throat, resting just above the hollow there. Now to try to figure out just what the thing did, she thought.

Thirty minutes, two smashed fingers, one cut arm, and a plethora of strained back muscles later, Taylor was no closer to figuring out exactly what the necklace did that she was before she started. It clearly did not grant her any form of additional toughness or strength. She'd easily cut her arm with a not particularly sharp knife from the kitchen. Taylor had also whacked two different fingers with a hammer, something that hurt more than she would have believed possible before doing it. No wonder the Dockworker she'd seen do it when she was younger had cussed so loudly.

Taylor also hadn't been able to lift her heavy wood dresser over her head, no matter how hard she tried. In the attempt she'd managed to pull several somethings in her lower back, making her incredibly thankful for her Regeneration rings as they'd soothed the resulting injuries in less than a minute.

With a sigh, Taylor decided to run more tests on the necklace. After all, she had all afternoon to figure it out.

Two hours later, Taylor felt more than a little discouraged as she sat on the back porch of her house. So far, she'd tried everything that she could think that the necklace might do and it had failed every test. She'd even climbed up into the tree in the backyard and jumped out of it about ten feet up to see if she could fly. Or at least float. Unfortunately, all she'd done was manage to hit the cold, hard ground with stunning force, leaving her winded and again thankful for her Regeneration rings, both of which were getting a workout today.

Taylor was considering calling it a day and starting dinner when something significant finally happened. Earlier, when she'd been lying on the ground out in the back yard after her failed attempt to fly, she'd noticed a brightly colored ball under the back porch. It probably belonged to one of the young kids who lived in the house behind them and had likely been kicked over their fence, ending up under the porch.

Deciding to get it back out from under the porch and toss it back over the fence, Taylor had gotten to her hands and knees. When she started to reach her hand under the edge of the porch, there was suddenly a sense of extreme danger. Somehow, Taylor _knew_ that if completed the action, she would be bitten by something dangerous.

The feeling was so powerful and convincing that she never doubted it for a second. Getting to her feet, Taylor ran back into the house. Emerging a moment later armed with a rake from the mud room, she carefully probed under the edge of the porch with it. A few seconds later, there was small, round black shape clinging to one of the tines of the rake.

Taylor didn't need to see the orange hour glass figure on the spider's underside to identify it as a black widow. Her parents had spent time when she was a lot younger putting the fear of God into her concerning that particular spider after a classmate had been bitten and almost died. Taylor carefully squashed the tiny, black menace with her shoe after setting down the rake. After all, there were plenty of nonpoisonous spiders to keep the insect population down.

Shivering slightly, Taylor pondered the implications of what had just happened. Had her necklace warned her of the danger? If so, why hadn't it warned her when she hurt herself earlier by smashing her finger, or jumping out of the tree? Slowly, the beginnings of an idea percolated its way through Taylor's mind making her decide to try something else.

Taylor stood on the edge of the back porch's steps. She deliberately turned around until her back face those same steps. Closing her eyes, Taylor started to take a slow step back, but even as she began to move, a sense of danger flashed into her mind.

Keeping her eyes closed, Taylor took a step to the side and felt nothing. She took a step forward and felt nothing. She took a step back and felt nothing. But to even think of taking that next step gave her a feeling that she was in danger.

Opening her eyes, Taylor finally understood approximately what her necklace did. It warned her of hidden dangers, of the perils and pitfalls that could not be seen with her eyes. That was why it hadn't gone off when she'd smashed her finger.

After all, Taylor had done it deliberately. Clearly she understood ahead of time that it was going to hurt when she hit her finger with the hammer. The same thing could be said of jumping out of the tree or cutting her arm.

Excitement pooling in her stomach, Taylor ran and grabbed the hammer. Sitting back down on the porch, she put her hand down flat on the wooden surface. Closing her eyes, she savagely swung the hammer down onto her hand.

Whump!

Dammit, she'd missed! Raising the hammer again, Taylor started to bring it down when suddenly she felt danger. Moving the hammer's path just a hair, she again hit wood. Taylor did it ten times in a row and every single time if she was going to hit herself, she was warned.

As much as Taylor would have liked to have some charm or item to make herself stronger, faster, or better, in the end you couldn't beat an item that warned you of unexpected danger. Now if she could just figure out how to get the damn thing back off, she thought, digging a finger under the edge of the necklace to no effect.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	7. Chapter Seven: Twilight Looming

**Chapter Seven: Twilight Looming**

Taylor stood in the shadows, not moving, as she watched the drug deal take place before her. Both the clearly Asian appearance of all of the men involved as well as the colors worn by the dealers easily told her that this was an ABB operation. Of course, calling it an operation probably gave those associated with it far too much credit.

No, Taylor was observing three scruffy young Asian men buying something from two other slightly less scruffy young Asian men. Should she stop them now or try to wait for bigger fish? As a slow burn began somewhere deep within her, Taylor was inclined to think of acting immediately.

Then the decision was taken away from her as an argument began to take place. One of the customers flung down whatever had been handed to him by the dealer and began shouting. Soon, all of the men were yelling. Taylor decided to stop this now before it turned to violence.

Walking out of the shadows, she was unnoticed at first. As a matter of fact, Taylor was less than fifty feet away from the argument and had already drawn her club before the first of the men looked her way.

In this case, it was one of the dealers whose eyes widened as he saw her. Taylor watched as he nudged his partner, who also looked her way. It was the partner who yelled something in a language that sounded like Chinese at her. Of course, that caused the other three to finally realize that someone was behind them and also turn in her direction.

By this time, Taylor was less than ten feet away. There was a familiar sensation of growing anger smoldering within her, as if a fire that had nearly gone down to the ashes was being stoked back up. Deciding that now was as good a time as any, Taylor leaped forward, viciously swinging her club.

The tallest of the three drug buyers went down like a ton of bricks when she hit him, vomiting continuously, and seemingly unable to move, while his partners dodged back, trying vainly to avoid his spew and yelling curses in a foreign language. Taylor ignored them both to turn to the dealers, both of whom had drawn weapons, a foot long knife and a short pistol, respectively.

Even though Taylor believed she was bulletproof, she decided to attack the gunman next. Rather than swinging the club, she instead jabbed it right at the man's face. Somehow, he dodged the attack, then fired directly at Taylor's chest.

There was no impact even though from less than five feet away it was almost impossible that the gunman had missed. There was also no sign of trepidation within Taylor at being shot at. Instead, it was as if someone had poured gasoline down her throat and then tossed in a match.

Absolute rage, so intense it literally caused a crimson sheen to Taylor's vision, ripped through her. It was filled her so full that she could literally not hold it within herself and had to scream at the top of her lungs to release some small part of it. Her own scream easily overpowered the curses of the others. It also froze the gunman in place, fear stealing over his features, for Taylor to smash him in the face with her club. Then there was a sense of danger from behind her and she spun, lashing out with the bat, striking the knife wielder alongside the head.

She ignored the collapsing figures who were already busy regurgitating their last two meals all over the street and turned to the remaining two buyers. One had already taken to his heels, while the other dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands up in a placating gesture. Of course, that just left his ribs exposed to the savage blow Taylor sent sweeping out in horizontal arc. He collapsed suitably, his vomiting as intense of the others, almost sobbing from the effect.

Breathing heavily, Taylor stared around her. To her growing satisfaction, all of her enemies were vanquished, collapsed onto their faces or sides and helplessly still heaving even though nothing was coming out any longer from two of the four figures.

What should she do now, Taylor wondered? More than anything, she wanted to hit them all again, to punish the men for what they'd done. Instead, she took a deep breath, thankful that she couldn't smell the stench of all of that regurgitated food, and marched over to one of the dealers, the one who'd had a gun.

His gun lay at the man's side, forgotten in his misery. The man himself was helplessly dry heaving, occasional moans emanating from him. Taylor quickly checked his pockets for more of the drugs, finding more than two dozen twists of a white powder, another dozen tiny vials of white rocks, and three glass pipes.

After checking the man's associate, Taylor found about $300 in mostly five's and ten's, with a scattering of ones. She also did the same thing to the two young men who'd been trying to buy drugs, netting about $80 between the two of them.

Now, what was she going to do with the drugs, Taylor wondered? A slow smile stole over her features as an idea occurred to her. She walked a dozen yards away from the men and pulling one of her Wrath grenades from her belt, setting it on the ground. She then piled the drugs around it. Then with a thought, Taylor touched the link she had to her item and activated it.

The resulting blast blew the drugs and paraphernalia to bits, with nothing but floating powder left of them. Taylor picked up her grenade and attached it back at her waist. Then she walked back to the men, who were still dry heaving, even ten minutes later.

Putting away her club, Taylor drew her sword. She slammed the sword's blade edgewise onto the metal revolver on the ground several times, not satisfied until it lay in multiple pieces. As with everything Taylor had cut with it so far, there was no resistance from the gun.

Staring down the man who'd shot her, Taylor drew back her foot and kicked him savagely in the stomach. Then she did it twice more as he sobbed piteously. Her tone as cold as ice, Taylor asked, ″Do I have your attention?″ The man turned terrified eyes upwards, nodding frantically. ″Good. I am Carnelian. You need to understand me. You don't sell here anymore. If I see you here again, I will _really_ hurt you. Get me?″

To punctuate her words, Taylor kicked the man two more times. The she did the same thing to each of the others, although she did limit herself to just one apiece for the men who were only buying. Point made, she walked away.

The money Taylor had already decided she would drop into the donations lock box of the nearest homeless shelter on the way home. After all, it wasn't as if she needed it.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dennis moved along at a walk, while above him, Chris flew along on his hoverboard. He was moderately bored as it had been an incredibly slow night so far. Not that he was complaining. After all, slow nights meant little or no paperwork afterward, while excitement typically meant stacks of forms to be filled out as compensation. Personally, he preferred his patrols uneventful and paperfree.

Over his earbud, Dennis heard Chris say, ″Clock, I see something up ahead. Want me to check it out?″

″No way, Kid. We'll check it out together.″

Chris almost whined, but finally muttered, ″Fine.″

Dennis grinned, completely unrepentant. After all, there was no way he was filling out paperwork as to why he sent his less experienced patrol partner off to investigate some situation alone. He even knew the name of the form he'd have had to fill out if he'd done it. Form 7441-A1A Protocol Disregard was simply the devil.

From somewhere up ahead, he heard what sounded like a gunshot. The situation had suddenly changed and Dennis broke into a sprint. Stumbling over a bottle on the ground, he burst out of the mouth of the alley he'd been running through and into a slightly more open area, Chris hovering just above him.

At the sight that greeted him, Dennis' mouth dropped open. Okay, he thought, this is so not good.

There were at least eight bodies lying randomly throughout the small intersection of alleys. They wore the colors and haircuts that screamed Empire 88. But that wasn't what caught Dennis' eye. Rather, it was the figure, dressed all in gray, that squatted next to an older African-American man, who was clearly very badly injured.

Of course Dennis recognized her. Carnelian, the new vigilante cape. Before their patrol, Carlos had gone over both a description as well as a contact protocol for anyone who encountered her. Not that Dennis thought it covered what was going on right in front of him. In a low voice, he said, ″Kid Win, check those bodies. Make sure they're alive.″

Dennis didn't wait for Chris to acknowledge the order, instead speaking into his communicator, ″Clock to Control, come in Vista.″

Missy's voice came clearly in over his earpiece, ″Vista here. What can I do for you, Clockblocker?″ The youngest Ward got more than her fair share of monitor duty even though she was one of the more experienced members of their group. Dennis was fairly sure that Chris would have happily exchanged his patrol for Missy's monitor duty, as he actually enjoyed manning the console. Still, they all had to take their turns. Even Sophia, Dennis thought in amusement.

Dennis spoke quickly, ″I need to report an incident involving Empire 88. I have several injured gang members, all normals, no Parahumans. I'm going to need ambulances for nine, I repeat, nine casualties. I am also about to make contact with Carnelian. Send back up as soon as possible.″

Vista's voice was crisp with an undertone of suppressed excitement as she replied, ″Understood, Clockblocker. Back up incoming. Ambulances incoming. I am apprising the Duty Officer of the encounter. Vista out.″

Call done, Dennis exchanged a glance with Chris, who'd finished checking the bodies. The thumbs up gave him a tremendous sense of relief. At least no one was dead. Still, the Empire 88 goons were clearly badly injured and he didn't know how that was going to play out. Piggy and Halbeard were definitely going to be displeased.

Glancing Chris' way a second time, Dennis nearly had a heart attack. He could see the other's hand hovering just over the butt of his laser pistol, as if he were about to draw it and fire. Dennis gave his patrol partner a rather pointed glance causing him to quickly move his hand to a more innocuous position at his side.

Best to get this over with, Dennis decided. Walking forward, he stopped about two yards away from the costumed vigilante. The brief he'd received definitely didn't cover just how impressive Carnelian appeared in person.

Even kneeling, Carnelian looked to be tall and slim, covered head to toe in a costume that seemed made from of some slick gray material. Dennis had no idea what it was comprised of, but it looked to be of _extremely_ high quality. He noted that while the material looked smooth, it didn't appear that shiny, having more of a flat sheen. The odd thing was that it didn't look that thick, not enough to stop bullets. Maybe whoever had shot at her had missed? Although what Dennis could see of Carnelian's chest seemed to indicate it might be more heavily armored there, while her helm appeared to be a solid piece of unknown durability.

The well thought out look of her costume was only heightened by the sheer monotonality of her appearance, as her shield, the hilt of her sword, and everything else about her was the exact same shade of dark gray. It a lot of ways, it made sense. Dennis could see how easily Carnelian's form would be lost in any kind of shadows or low light conditions.

Still, the most impressive thing about the costume wasn't actually its somewhat boring color. Instead it was the sheer quality of the costume. Most new Parahumans who went out usually had rather crude costumes, at least at first. Carnelian's costume not only fitted her like a glove, but did so as seamlessly as Dennis' own Protectorate issued outfit. And his couldn't even come close to matching how the vigilante's costume seemed to encapsulate her gear, as the hilt of both her sword and the handle of what appeared to be some kind of club partially jutted out of the vigilante's back, the rest sheathed within. Other unknown items adorned her figure as well.

Still, as impressive as she appeared, Dennis needed to talk to her and find out exactly what had happened to lead to the violent confrontation whose aftermath he was witness to. However, just as he was about to speak, Dennis saw something rather unexpected.

At some point while Dennis was studying her, Carnelian had removed her right glove to expose a slim hand adorned with a rather large number of rings, at least two per finger, that matched the rest of her costume in color. That same hand was now cupping the face of the injured man, whose breathing was slow and labored. From his own first aid training, he knew the man was likely in shock and appeared badly hurt, blood staining his clothing. From the hitch that he detected in the man's breathing, Dennis didn't think the poor guy was long for this world.

At that point, Carnelian did... something. Then, as if a film were being run in fast motion, the man's injuries visibly healed. His breathing which had been so labored a moment before, smoothed out, easing as if by magic. A moment later, his eyes opened and he started at the figure touching his face. ″Who are you? What happened?″

Carnelian spoke in a soothing tone, her voice sounding younger than Dennis expected, ″My name is Carnelian. Sir, what do you remember what happened to you?″

The silver-haired man glanced around him, lingering on Dennis and Chris, before moving onto one of the bodies on the ground. He swallowed. ″I-I got jumped by some skinheads. Boys, really. They had knocked me down and were kicking me. Then I guess I passed out from the beating. I think I was pretty hurt.″

Tentatively, the man touched his own face, first encountering Carnelian's hand, then his own skin as she slowly released her grasp. He looked amazed. ″I... I'm not hurt. Did... did you heal me, young lady?″

Dennis would have almost said that Carnelian looked shy as her helmet dipped momentarily. ″Yes, sir, I did. You were badly hurt. I was able to help you.″

The man slowly nodded. ″And you put down those boys that did this to me? You didn't kill them, did you?″

There was an edge to Carnelian's voice as she said, ″I put them down, but they're not dead. I think some of them probably wish they were. But the worse they have is broken bones. Still, sir, they won't bother you again any time soon.″

The man tentatively came to his feet as Carnelian took a couple of steps back to give him room. He held out a hand to the vigilante who carefully shook it. He introduced himself with a smile, ″My name is Edward Jones, Carnelian. Thank you very much for coming to my rescue. And for healing me. Why, I feel ten years younger!″

Dennis could hear the smile in Carnelian's voice as she said, ″You're welcome, Mr Jones.″

Edward Jones nodded towards Dennis and Chris. ″Of course, I recognize the others with you. I take it then that you're a new Ward?″

If Carnelian had been quiet and soothing before, she certainly wasn't now. Any trace of the smile was gone from her voice as she spoke heatedly, ″No, Mr Jones, I'm not a Ward. I would appreciate if you didn't call me one again.″

Carnelian's voice sounded so angry that Dennis couldn't stop his reflexive reach out. Whether it was to freeze the other or just provide a soothing touch, he wasn't sure. What Dennis didn't expect was for Carnelian to spin away from him, shield held out defensively, as if she'd seen him moving. In a tone so full of rage that Mr Jones actually took a backwards step away from her, she demanded, ″What the hell do you think you're doing?″

Oh shit, Dennis thought. He was utterly appalled by his own instinctive reaction. So much for a peaceful first contact.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor stared at the bluish orange Ward, her eyes focused upon his hand, which was slowly dropping back toward his side. So that was why her danger sense had told her to move. As a crimson haze colored her vision, she repeated, her voice rising to almost a shout, ″What the hell do you think you're doing? Were you trying to freeze me? To attack me?″

Clockblocker, easily recognized by his white uniform covered with gray clocks, some of whose hands spun randomly, seemed completely nonplussed by her question. Finally, he said, ″You seem a little too upset for such an innocuous comment. I was just trying to defuse the situation.″

Taylor demanded, ″How? By taking me prisoner? Stay the hell away from me.″ With that, she drew her sword and pointed it at the other teenager in warning. Ward or not, she would deal with him as she'd done with these others if he pushed her.

By Clockblocker's side, another Ward, Kid Win, recognizable by his red and gold armor, that oddly nearly matched his aura, rose slowly into the air on some kind of board. Taylor noted the way his hand was reaching for the pistol at his side and closing her eyes, waited for just a second. When her danger sense reacted, Taylor stepped to the side, allowing the red bolt to pass to her left, away from Mr Jones. Opening her eyes, she sheathed her sword and pulled a Regurgitation grenade from her belt. Without hesitation, she threw it as hard as she could right at the armored flying Ward.

Kid Win clearly saw the gray sphere incoming. He immediately dodged to the side so that it would miss him, holstering his laser pistol as he did so. Taylor's lips curved into an angry smile as she allowed it to travel past him by approximately five feet, far enough that Mr Jones would be well out of the effect's range, and then detonated it. The results were rather dramatic.

Enveloped in the bilious yellow sphere, both Wards immediately collapsed, Kid Win falling off his hoverboard to crash unceremoniously onto the ground in a metallic clatter. Now supine, they both began vomiting copiously, utterly incapable of moving. Walking around their miserable forms, Taylor picked up her Regurgitation grenade from where it had fallen to the ground and put it back on her belt. That was when she noticed that Clockblocker seemed to be choking.

Taylor realized that the Ward's faceless uniform wasn't allowing his vomit to clear out, choking the teenager. If it had some simple form of release, Clockblocker appeared too sick and miserable to use it.

She knelt down next to the writhing teen. Pulling her short blade, she carefully cut the region across Clockblocker's mouth. The glowing crimson blade sliced through the material with no resistance. Immediately, vomit poured past the teen's face mask as he hacked and coughed to clear his airway.

Taylor felt her own stomach heave slightly at the sight, glad that she couldn't smell it. She grimaced as she realized that some of the teen's vomit had fallen on her foot and leg. Fortunately, a moment later, it slid off the gray surface, as if friction had no hold upon it.

In the distance, Taylor could hear sirens drawing near. She turned to Mr Jones, who was looking a bit pale and queasy himself, a color that was not complimentary to the bilious yellow and pale olives of his aura. In a voice that surprised her with its coldness, Taylor said, ″Wait here for the authorities, Mr Jones. You should be safe enough. I'm leaving.″

Sounding shocky and frightened, the man quietly asked, ″You attacked them. Why?″

Bitterness surged within Taylor. A bitterness that filled every inflection of her voice as she stated, ″Don't believe all of the Protectorate's hype. That they're all _heroes_. They've done _nothing_ to clean up this city. To oppose the gangs that exist as parasites, feeding off of our lifeblood. Remember the words of Edmund Burke, Mr Jones. 'All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.' Doing nothing describes the Protectorate to a T. As for these particular 'heroes,' they were about to attack me a second time. I merely stopped them. They'll suffer no ill effects other than feeling nauseous for a while. Goodbye, Mr Jones.″

Edward Jones looked poleaxed by her words. She stalked away, pausing only to chop up the gun that one of the Empire thugs had tried to shoot her with. A whisper followed Taylor into the night, ″Goodnight, Carnelian, and God Bless.″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dennis sat at the table in the Wards' debriefing room, his stomach still queasy even hours later. Next to him, Chris looked as green as he felt. Across from him, the figures of Armsmaster and Miss Militia sat, along with a PRT stenotype operator who appeared ready to record the interview.

Armsmaster began the interview. ″Let the record show that both Clockblocker and Kid Win have been cleared by Medical to be present for this interview in accordance to all rules and regulation as set forth by Youth Guard. Clockblocker, Kid Win, we've all read your written reports. What I would like to establish during this meeting is both the level of culpability you bear for what happened and to evaluate Carnelian's powers and mindset. Clockblocker, begin with why you chose to approach a potentially hostile Parahuman so closely.″

Dennis wasn't sure whether it was the lingering effects of whatever Carnelian had done to him or if the sinking feeling in his gut was a result of the ass chewing he was about to receive. Oh well, he decided, soonest started, soonest done. In a respectful tone completely at odds with his usually smart-alecky attitude, Dennis began speaking, ″I approached Carnelian because she appeared to be rendering aid to an injured civilian. So I...″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Emily tapped her pen impatiently as she listened to Armsmaster's briefing. Finally, she interrupted with, ″So what you're saying is that both of your Wards made attempts to use their powers on Carnelian, only to be foiled somehow, whereupon she reacted with some kind of area of effect weapon that took them both down, making them violently ill. Does that just about sum things up?″

Armsmaster was silent as Miss Militia answered, ″That's a rather simplistic answer, but yes, basically. However, neither Clockblocker nor Kid Win carried out an actual attack upon Carnelian. Both were foiled prior to doing so. So the question needs to be asked. Just how did she know either was going to attack her?″

Emily knew the splitting headache she was feeling wasn't going away any time soon. ″You're saying she's a Thinker, some kind of Precog.″

″It appears likely. Plus the area effect weapon she used activated after it had already missed Kid Win, seemingly triggered only when the civilian Carnelian was trying to keep safe was out of range. That argues for possibly a shaker ability. Plus she healed Edward Jones, making it even more likely she's some kind of Striker.″

Armsmaster broke in at this point. ″Or Carnelian's a Tinker and remotely detonated it. The healing could also be a device. Clockblocker observed her wearing a lot of different rings.″

Miss Militia shook her head. ″We don't even know what, if anything, any of the items did. Neither of the boys had any physiological reason to have suddenly become so ill. No inner ear imbalance. Nothing. They were just suddenly vomiting so badly they couldn't even move. We can say it triggered, but all they saw was it miss Kid Win, then they were on the ground, unable to contest Carnelian further. Mr Jones was also healed with no visible effect.″

Armsmaster nodded. ″Additionally, there are the guns at the scene of both attacks.″

Emily went ahead and asked, ″What about them?″

″They were sliced into pieces.″

That was a little strange. Emily raised a brow. ″And?″

″The same thing was done to Clockblocker's mask. He was apparently choking on his own regurgitant, which Carnelian noticed. She used a knife she carried to cut through the face mask of his costume. It-″

Emily felt a sudden sense of urgency as she interrupted, ″Did she attempt to compromise his civilian identity?″

Armsmaster shook his head. ″No. However, neither the guns nor the mask's material showed any of the signs of being cut. Nothing frayed nor any irregular edges, for example. Even under extreme magnification, there are no signs of irregularities in the cut edges. The cut edges actually show to be far cleaner than the machined parts of the guns.″

Emily was growing impatient. Why does he always do this, she wondered? Aloud, she asked, ″Can you just cut to the chase, Armsmaster?″

″Director Piggot, Carnelian's knife possesses as close to a monomolecular edge as I've ever encountered. While it is likely not a true example, it is very close. She could very likely cut through most materials with it.″

Suddenly interested, Emily asked, ″Would it damage an Endbringer?″

Armsmaster seemed a bit less certain as he said, ″Maybe. It would at least cut through the upper layers of its skin, although I am not certain how deeply it would penetrate. Size and the strength of the person wielding it might be an issue. Certainly Carnelian has show no examples of being Brute.″

″I think the word you're looking for is yet.″

Emily and Armsmaster both turned towards Miss Militia at hearing her speak. Emily asked, ″Can you explain that point, please?″

Miss Militia spread her fingers. ″I mean, the last time we spoke, we thought we had Carnelian pegged at Striker 3, Tinker 3. Now, in light of the fact that she's show traits of being a Precog, has a distance area effect attack, can heal, _and_ is using a blade that is very dangerous, we need to change and possibly raise those classifications.″

Armsmaster nodded. ″Yes, I'd up her Tinker ability to at least a 4. And add Thinker 3 to it as well as Shaker 3.″

Emily decisively shook her head. ″Let's not get carried away, people. I agree with raising Carnelian's Striker rating to 4, and to adding the Thinker 3 as well, but not the Shaker rating. No, for now, Carnelian's a Striker or Tinker 4, and Thinker 3.″

Both of her Parahuman companions appeared doubtful, but the ratings satisfied Emily. She added, ″This incident involving Empire 88 makes it even more urgent that we contact Carnelian first. Kaiser and his gang are going to be looking for whoever it was that attacked their people. Let's not come in second place here. Plus, there's the added issue of her attacking two Wards. I don't want this situation to escalate. Approach her with caution. Understood?″

″Yes, Director.″

″Understood, Director Piggot.″

With that, Emily got up and headed for her office. At least the chair in there was comfortable, making it a little easier on her back. Maybe it would even help with her headache. Maybe.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

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 **Topic: New Hero Codename Carnelian  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

I'm happy to be the first person who announces the presence of the newest Parahuman in Brockton Bay, Carnelian!

So far, what I've heard is that she's a Striker or Tinker 4, and a Thinker 3. Wears an all gray outfit. Carries a sword and a shield

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

Why Carnelian? With that color scheme she should be named Gray Girl or something. I like the Medieval motif, though.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

Seriously? You _know_ there's an ex-S9 member with almost the same name. What the ****?

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

at **XxVoid_CowboyxX** Please consider your words before you type. The end.

at ** **Bagrat**** Why the confusion over the Striker/Tinker classifications? I can see either going with a Thinker, but not how they can be confused with one another.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

I have heard that the PRT's having a hard time pigeonholing her. So it's either Striker or Tinker. The Thinker classification is because of some form of precog. No idea what.

 **► WhedonRipperFan**  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

Striker or Tinker, huh? That seems odd. Why the lack of information?

 **► Miraclemic**  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

at **WhedonRipperFan** Maybe Carnelian's keeping it on the down low. You know Tinkers don't fair well out on their own.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) **  
**Posted on February 28, 2011:

at **Miraclemic** You could be right.

Regardless, she appears to be have fought members of the ABB and Empire 88 so far. No Parahumans though **.**

 **► Chrome** **  
**Posted on February 28, 2011:

What do we know about Carnelian's appearance/costume besides the color and the knight look? Is it a standard home-made special?

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on February 28, 2011:

All I've heard on that count is gray monochromatic. So don't expect anything too exciting. I wouldn't be surprised if she's using a home-made grab bag of stuff dyed one color for looks.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4** **,** **5** **…** **52** **,** **53** **,** **54**

Taylor scrolled a little further on into the thread, then a little further still. Her eyes widened involuntarily as she read the later entries.

 **Topic: New Hero Codename Carnelian  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay ►Independents **

**► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

Okay, everyone, calm down. We know that she attacked Clockblocker and Kid Win, but we don't know _why_. There's no guarantee that Carnelian's a villain. After all, she also healed that civilian that got hurt by those Empire 88 goons. Also, there's no guarantee that the Wards messed up somehow. We just don't know enough.

To let anyone just jumping into the thread, here's a link to video showing Carnelian beating the hell out of some Empire 88 thugs who had been putting a beat down on another person. This was followed by an altercation with two members of the local Wards, who she also handily defeated.

 **► White Fairy** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

It's going to take a lot to justify taking them both out. Kid Win did shoot at her, but that seemed more in response to her threatening Clock with her sword.

 **► Antigone**  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

Everyone's so busy talking about whether she'd a hero or a villain, that no one's addressing the elephant in the room. Carnelian not only knew that Clockblocker was reaching out to freeze her, and dodged it without looking, she also dodged Kid Win's laser blast. Not just that, but earlier she dodged two Empire goons that tried to attack her from behind. All together, that suggests a scary level of precognition. Plus, she's a _healer_!

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

She's the Simurgh! Save us!

 **User received an infraction for this post: 1) Don't compare local capes to Endbringers. It's insulting and panic-inducing.**

 **► WhedonRipperFan**  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

I'm interested in both Carnelian's level of precognition, as well as what exactly she did with that ball she threw at Kid Win. Whatever it was, it made those two Wards barf their brains out. I mean, the video goes on and on and on and they're still throwing up well after the PRT shows up to take over the scene. They threw up past the time whoever was filming finally stopped.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

at **WhedonRipperFan** Agreed. Plus the way it fell out of the sky suggests some kind of loss/expulsion of energy, one that can't be seen. I don't how big the area effect of that thing was, but the man standing behind Carnelian was unaffected.

 **► AryanRising**  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

 ** **Post deleted.**** **User received an infraction for this post: 1) Do not make death threats against others. Your IP has been forwarded to the authorities. Welcome to the first day of your permanent ban.**

 **► Clockblocker** (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

Can we please get off of the subject of my tossing my cookies? I mean, seriously? Before anyone asks, I can't comment upon the altercation with Carnelian. It's an ongoing investigation.

 **► White Fairy** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

at **Clockblocker** Hey, I support the local Wards and Protectorate, but that's a cop out. Clearly, words were said, which none of us can hear because of the distance and the chicken**** who filmed the action didn't get closer.

 **► Tin Mother** (Super Moderator)  
Posted on March 1, 2011:

Calm down, everyone, or I'll be forced to lock this thread.

at **White Fairy** Calling out a member of the Wards for something over which he has no control? Don't do it again or it's an infraction.

 **End of Page.** **1** **,** **2** **,** **3** **,** **4** **,** **5** **…** **52** **,** **53** **,** **54**

Taylor pursed her lips. It hadn't seemed that bad when she was confronting the Wards who'd attacked her when she wasn't looking. Although, technically, Kid Win hadn't known she wasn't looking as her helmet covered her eyes. Clockblocker had, though, and tried to freeze Taylor when her back was turned. So they got what they deserved.

Not that the people on PHO seemed to agree. Well, some of them did, but a lot of them thought Taylor had reacted out of proportion to the provocation they'd given her. Then again, they weren't on the receiving end of sneak attacks. One sneak attack.

Taylor had even healed the man who's been attacked, Mr Jones. She'd figured out a way to push all of her Regeneration ring's effects into him at once, healing him nearly instantly. Of course, the ring's glow had ceased completely, but it had begun charging and had been nearly back to normal when she'd gotten home. Even that good deed didn't appear to carry much weight with the posters here.

For a second, there was a pukey feeling deep inside of her, as if the old Taylor was about to break free and go back to her former ways of being weak and a victim. No. She was not weak. She was not a victim. She would never be that person again! It was sick and disgusting and so not the person she was becoming.

Taylor took a deep breath, then another. She had to calm down. She had to... A familiar rage flickered within her as Taylor desperately fought for control. She could slowly feeling herself slipping away as the crimson of wrath and more edged her vision. She had to get these feelings out of her! With a fierceness that surprised her, Taylor _pushed_ those feelings aside and into the most convenient object that was available to her, a bangle that was hanging around one slim wrist.

The lack of conflict within caught Taylor by surprise and she found herself leaning back into her chair, almost swooning. Bleary-eyed, she looked around the room, but nothing seemed amiss. She hadn't actually screamed out loud, she realized. That had all been inside of her... Taylor's introspection stopped, stunned by by what had just caught her eye.

Oh, shit, Taylor thought, staring at the strangely glowing item on her arm. What had she done? She hadn't visualized at all when she'd _pushed_. A quick, slightly guilty glance around her told Taylor that no one else had noticed what had happened. She went back to studying what the bangle on her arm had become.

Where before there had been a thin band of brightly colored purple plastic hanging on her wrist, there now sat something more than two inches wide and far thicker. A bracer or wristband more than a bangle. Of course it was made of the same slick gray stone that all of her items were fashioned from. That wasn't what caught Taylor's eye.

Instead, what fascinated her was the new object's glow. Where most of Taylor's items had a steady glow of one color until exhausted, the one exception being her necklace, this one did not. Instead, it looked banded, as it glowed at least nine different colors that Taylor could identify. The color bands ran perpendicular to the bracer's circumference, but somehow faded into one another at some point near the edges. The result there was all colors and none, something that Taylor couldn't even begin to really describe.

Taylor tried to understand what was happening with the fade of the glows, but eventually gave up as it just looked too strange and complex. Focusing instead on the colors before they melded, she noted red, blue, green, orange, white, purple, gray, gold, silver, and turquoise.

The last was a color Taylor hadn't really encountered before so she didn't have the slightest idea what it did. The rest... she shook her head at the sheer strangeness of the color combinations. Some of the colors appeared weak, barely flickering in a sickly manner, while others glowed bright and strong.

It was an extremely bizarre combination and Taylor didn't have the faintest idea what it did. She was considering possibilities in her head when she felt a warning from her necklace. Looking up, Taylor saw that there was an older woman standing there wearing an impatient look on her face. Had she seen something?

The woman gestured towards the computer. ″You done?″

Taylor started guiltily. She had gone over her allotted time and the library today was far busier than last time. ″Oh yeah. Just let me get my stuff.″

Taylor took two seconds to log off of PHO and then grabbed her files and put them all into her backpack. Hoisting it onto her shoulder, she started to take off, then hesitated. Her backpack felt strangely light. Taylor gave another quick glance around despite the other's obvious impatience, but didn't see anything she'd left behind.

As soon as Taylor was out the door of the library, she stopped and checked everything in her backpack. Okay, she thought with relief, it's all there. Briefly, she wondered why the backpack felt so light, then dismissed the thought. It was probably just because she was getting used to it, or maybe her Regeneration ring was helping her build muscle, making it feel lighter.

Taylor's stomach gave a growl of hunger, such a normal thing after the strangeness of the bracelet that she couldn't help smiling. Deciding on a quick bite to eat before heading home, she walked down the street towards the crosswalk.

Five minutes and ten dollars later, Taylor was the proud owner of a loaded foot-long hot dog, fries, and a thirty-two ounce Coke. There was a food cart on the other side of the street from her bus stop that had the best dogs in town, or so she'd always thought. It was certainly the best Taylor had ever tried. The owner had smiled at her in a semi-familiar way while he made her order, like he almost recognized her. Now it was time to eat.

Taylor made groaning noises of pleasure as she devoured her food. Slightly embarrassed at her lack of control, she slowed down a bit and tried to make everything last.

Still, neither the loaded hot dog, fries, or soda lasted long and Taylor quickly tossed their remains into a conveniently located trash can. Heading back to the crosswalk, she waited for the Walk sign to light up. When it did, she started across.

Taylor had just began to place her foot into the street when her necklace warned her of danger and she leaped back, just as a large pick up came barreling through, going at least twenty over the posted limit, and running the red light. Fucking maniacs, Taylor thought, wishing she had her suit with her right then. She'd... she'd do something to deal with them.

Taking temporary shelter behind a park bench, Taylor took a deep breath then released it, fighting back the surge of rage at what had just happened. The last thing she wanted to do was to accidentally imbue something while out here on the street.

An accented voice at her elbow drew Taylor out of her introspection. ″Miss, are you all right?″

Taylor turned towards the voice and found herself staring the hot dog vendor's worried face. She forced a smile. ″I'm okay. They missed me completely. I guess I must have caught a glimpse or something out of the corner of my eye that warned me they were coming.″

The man, whose swarthy skin and accent placed his likely origin somewhere in eastern Europe, smiled. ″I'm glad you did see them cause they were not looking. They just barrel through the intersection. They do that before, you know. I am Dmitri. You can call me that.″

Taylor felt a familiar sensation of coldness stealing through herself, and had to use care to keep it from coloring her tone. ″I'm Taylor, Dmitri. Those men, they've done this before? Why don't the police do something?″

Dmitri suddenly looked worried. ″Maybe I shouldn't say. I don't want to make any trouble.″

Taylor smiled reassuringly. ″I won't tell anyone. So who does the truck belong to?″

Dmitri stared at her a moment longer, then shrugged. ″I think maybe it belongs to those Nazi wannabes.″

Nazi wannabes? Clearly he was talking about Empire 88, but Taylor decided to make sure. ″You mean Empire 88?″

Dmitri spat, then apologized. ″I'm sorry about that. Yes, them. They think themselves so tough. They don't even know the true evil of the philosophy they spout. They're Americans, after all.″

Taylor raised a brow at that. Dmitri looked temporarily embarrassed. ″I mean, most Americans, they have never had to deal with true evil. Not the kind of evil that rounds people up and puts them on trains to be gassed and burnt into fertilizer.″

Taylor nodded. ″You're right about that. So you think the cops know about them but won't do anything because they're Empire 88?″

Dmitri nodded. ″I think so. What is this world coming to when a man can't be safe on the street? Even then, vandals go around and damage everything. Goodbye, Miss, I hope you buy a hot dog again.″

Taylor agreed with most of what Dmitri had said, even to buying the hot dog if she could, although she didn't understand the comment about the vandals. He had glanced down at the metal park bench she'd been braced on when he said it. Doing her own glance downward, Taylor's heart almost stopped.

Because where her hands touched the park bench's back, there were deep indentations in the metal almost as if... Taylor stared at her fingers, then carefully placed them into the depressions, finding they fit exactly. Releasing the back of the park bench as if it were red hot, she took a step back, then another. It was all Taylor could do not to run. What the hell had she done now?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	8. Chapter Eight: Running in the Dark

**Chapter Eight: Running in the Dark**

Lisa picked up the phone and hit the answer button. She didn't have to wait long as the voice of her employer came on the line, ″Tattletale, I'd like you to look into the new vigilante that is running around with an eye towards recruiting her.″

Lisa's eyes narrowed as she considered exactly who the boss was talking about. It didn't take her long to make the connection. Flatly, she said, ″You mean Carnelian.″

Her employer sounded pleased by her accuracy. ″Exactly. She seems to have a quite varied power set and could be very useful to us.″

You mean useful to you, Lisa thought cynically. Aloud, she said, ″I got it, Boss. I'll get to researching her right away.″

″And Tattletale?″

Lisa could feel her heart beating faster as her power read the intentions of the man on the other end of the line. ″Yes?″

There was a lurking danger in the other's voice. ″Don't fail me in this as you did with Spitfire. This time keep the others under control.″

Then was nothing but a dial tone as Lisa stared resentfully at the phone in her hand. The Boss, who had recruited Lisa herself at gunpoint, had a habit of setting her difficult tasks, backed up by a threat that she was all to aware of.

Worse, he expected Lisa, who wasn't even officially the leader of the Undersiders, to somehow keep all of its members in line. That was something easier said than done. Still, Brian, who was headstrong at best, as well as being the nominal leader, didn't give her all that much trouble. To some degree, he actually tried to fly under the radar. On the other hand, Alec, who Lisa had already decided was a textbook sociopath, was docile so long as all of his needs were met, primarily money and plenty of distractions, most in the form of video games.

No, the biggest difficulty on the Undersiders was Rachel Lindt aka Bitch. Because of something her power had done to her, added to an already horrid childhood, the girl was both violent and unstable. Lisa could use her power to get around that, acting in a manner than Rachel found acceptable to her altered mindset. The others had their own ways of dealing with her, from Brian who kept her in line with violence, while not understanding why it was necessary, to Alec who simply wasn't afraid of her or anything else, his indifference an effective shield.

However, trying to bring in another person onto the team, one who didn't know how to deal with Rachel, and who was unable to defend themselves from her, was hugely difficult. As Lisa had found out when trying to recruit Spitfire, who Rachel had ultimately set her dogs upon and driven from the team. Hopefully, Carnelian wouldn't be nearly as vulnerable, something the video she'd seen of the other in action backed up.

Of course, the video had also shown the other to be a borderline psychopath. Lisa shivered as she remembered the sheer rage her power had revealed within the vigilante. Carnelian was so angry that she honestly didn't understand why the vigilante cape hadn't killed everyone around her. Yet, for some reason, she hadn't, even going so far as to heal someone.

Lisa hadn't been able to figure out the reason why, likely because the low quality of the video didn't give her power enough information to work with. Even the fight with the Wards had been difficult to analyze, the only thing she'd gotten from it was that Carnelian was also clearly a precog of some kind. For a moment, Lisa wondered if that was why the Boss wanted her recruited, then dismissed the thought, filing it away under 'things set aside for future consideration.'

For now, rubbing her arms as goosebumps rose, Lisa considered how to go about recruiting Brockton Bay's newest and most violent vigilante.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor left her house early in the morning, wanting to be back by lunch, even though she wasn't sure her dad would call to check up on her. Danny Hebert was busier than ever, and usually ate in his office. However, on some days, he would call to chat for a five or ten minutes, just, as he put it 'to hear the sound of her voice.' It was sweet and heartwarming, but an issue since Taylor didn't want to get busted for being gone all day, even if she was well ahead in all of her classes.

Running down the Boardwalk was easy, especially when you were wearing two rings that kept your body working at its peak. Still, it took nearly thirty minutes, even at Taylor's sub-six minute a mile pace, to get to the Ship's Graveyard.

That was where Taylor had decided she needed to go to test her new bracer. Currently, it was residing in her backpack as she'd already had one accident with it right after she'd gotten home the day before, accidentally shattering a glass filled with water. Then again, in some ways, that had been the first real test of what the bracer did.

Taylor had immediately taken off the bracer and began to clean up the mess. It was while picking up the broken glass that Taylor had realized she'd cut herself. But only after taking _off_ the bracer. She allowed a few seconds to pass so that the cut on her thumb closed back up. Then Taylor had carefully put back on the bracer and grabbed a piece of glass and _squeezed._

The glass had been practically powdered in the palm of her hand, but there hadn't been a single cut visible anywhere. After a thorough inspection, Taylor had carefully cleaned off the fine pieces of glass, first rubbing her hands together, then washing them scrupulously. Afterward, she had put the bracer down and cleaned up the rest of the glass. It was then that Taylor had decided she needed to test it far away from the all too delicate contents of her childhood home.

Now, staring up at the gray, rusting metal side of what looked like an immense freighter, Taylor was at a loss as to where to begin. Finally, she decided that she needed to go inside where she wouldn't be seen.

It was a moment's investigation to locate a ladder heading up. For a moment, Taylor wished she had her costume with her, just in case. Especially when she was halfway up the creaky rust-eaten rungs and could feel their lack of integrity.

Walking along the outer edges of the ship's main deck, Taylor found a hatch leading inwards. Traveling down the labyrinth of corridors, she finally made her way into the ship's hold. There she stopped, staring out into the huge space.

It was at least a hundred yards long and over thirty wide. There was a surprising amount of debris filling the open space, from large metal shipping containers to random pieces of metal, wood, and paper. The piece de resistance, however, was the huge hole in the side of the hold about halfway down, where another ship's bow was embedded at least fifteen feet inside of the one she was inside of. This would make the perfect testing location, Taylor decided. She shrugged her backpack off and reached inside for the bracer.

For a moment, the colors of the bracer and the way they blended into the edges pulled Taylor's attention inward. It was only when she was coming out of her trance that she realized that she'd lost over ten minutes.

Blinking rapidly, Taylor pulled her eyes away from the bracer. She wondered if she could see the necklace she wore if it would do the same thing. If so, it was just as well she couldn't take it off.

Taylor slipped one long-fingered hand through the bracer's hole and settled it onto her arm. For the first time, she was aware of a difference in how she felt after putting on one of her imbued items. There was a solidness to Taylor's body, as if she had become something other than mere flesh and bone. She didn't know if it was because the bracer was stronger than some of her other items, or because she was becoming more sensitive to the effects of her imbued items.

It was a stark contrast to how how frail Taylor had felt just a couple of months before when she was only a girl. It was also faintly seductive and she made a quick note in her notebook to watch out for the feeling. Now it was time to see just how strong and durable she really was.

Taylor started out by walking over to one of the containers, this one more or less upright and painted a faded green. Bending down, she dug her fingers under the metal edge and carefully lifted the container's nearest side.

It didn't feel very heavy and Taylor wondered if it was empty. Carefully, she pushed the near edge up over her head and walked her hands along the underside of it until she was near the middle. The far end had lifted off of the ground by this time as well and Taylor was discovering just how hard it was to balance something so large, and so much heavier than herself, over her head.

Taylor slowly and carefully bent her knees and arms, then violently thrust her arms up and to the side, the container flying into the side of the ship's hold about sixty feet away and fifteen feet up with a tremendous noise.

 **C-c-c-c-c-l-l-l-l-a-a-a-n-ng!**

Taylor put her hands over her ears in embarrassed dismay as the sounds echoed throughout the hold until finally, after what felt like forever, they faded away. Walking over, she examined the damage she'd done. The container had split open and its contents had spilled out all over that side of the hold. So much for it being empty, Taylor thought in chagrin. Instead, the container had held a huge amount of what looked like car parts, most of them seemingly made of metal.

Clearly, both from the damage the container had sustained from being thrown, as well as the huge dent it had left in the side of the ship's hold, it had been quite heavy. Taylor wasn't sure what that meant as far as how strong she was, but apparently she could pick up something at least as heavy as a car and toss it. After all, she'd thrown the container about thirty yards and if it hadn't impacted the wall, it would have gone at least that much farther. And she suspected that the container was quite a bit heavier than a car.

Okay, she thought, now to move on to something else. Taylor headed over to where there were a number of scrap sheet steel pieces. Picking up one that was probably three quarters of an inch thick, she carried the roughly three foot by five foot piece over to the side of the hold. Propping it up at an angle, Taylor pulled back her fist, then slammed it as hard as she could into the center of the steel plate.

The results were dramatic. The steel folded around her fist, and Taylor ended up falling forward onto the now severely dented plate that had slid down the wall, only kept off the floor by the huge impression her fist had made. The next few minutes was awkward as hell, as she didn't have the leverage to pick up the plate which was so much heavier than her own body. Instead, she lay half sprawled upon it. In the end, Taylor managed to brace her other hand next to the dent and pulled her trapped hand free with a groaning of stressed metal.

Taylor knew her face was red as a beet as she carefully checked her hand. It wasn't damaged, despite undergoing stresses that should have shattered every bone within it. A slow grin pulled up the corners of her mouth as she figured that she must be at least a Brute 4 while wearing the bracer. Even if the test hadn't gone quite the way she'd hoped. Then again, that was what testing and training were for, to work out the kinks. Now on to more of the same.

Half an hour later found Taylor reclined on a stack of steel plates while she rubbed her aching arms and legs, then briefly massaged her equally sore shoulders. The pain was already receding as her Regeneration rings fixed her up. Of course, any second now she was going to be starving, even with the big breakfast she'd eaten.

But she finally had a firm idea of just how strong her new armband made her. Taylor had already decided to call it a Bracer of Might. It was a bit pretentious and didn't explain everything the bracer did, but she liked the name, finding it to be catchy.

Definitely a Brute 4, Taylor thought. She'd hadn't found anything within the hold she couldn't lift, but when she'd gone to push the other ship out of the hole its collision had made, that had been beyond her. Plus the sheer effort she'd expended had caused her subsequent soreness. Considering the other ship probably weighed at least several thousand tons and was seriously embedded into the ship she was on, that wasn't bad at all.

Taylor glanced at her watch and realized that she needed to leave now if she was going to be home by lunchtime. Grabbing her backpack, she headed back out at a run.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

It was the next day, and Taylor had decided she would again try to make another Regeneration ring as well as try a few other experiments with her powers. She hoped that with everything she'd learned, it would be easier. Of course, her subsequent newest stack of Wrath rings said otherwise. In the end, though, Taylor did manage to actually make two of them, which shocked her to the core. Then again, maybe she was _finally_ getting the hang of her powers.

Both new rings glowed a brighter green than any of the three Taylor had made before. She meticulously replaced the two she was currently wearing with her newest ones. Now she just had to figure out what she was going to do with these two.

Taylor had one idea what to do with them, but wasn't sure if it would work because of the recharge time involved. From activating a Wrath ring and then immediately putting it away, she knew it took roughly three days for one of her items to recharge on its own. Somehow, her items recharged by themselves, even if slowly, which was very fortunate as it was the only way Taylor could make her latest idea work at all.

There were a number of hospitals in Brockton Bay, but the one closest to Taylor's home was both smaller than any of the others and the one least visited by Panacea. By least, she actually meant not at all, trying to not feel bitter about the situation. Isiah Morris Memorial Hospital was named after a notable figure from Brockton Bay's early history and catered to many of the poorer people living on the north end of town. Taylor thought that if she dropped off the two Regeneration rings there, they would be incredibly helpful, as they could be used about twice a week each, healing four people a week.

Since there would be no cost to the hospital, they could use them to heal people who otherwise might not be able to afford medical care. Plus, with how close the hospital was, Taylor might be able to swing by more often and recharge the rings herself. After all, it only took around a couple of minutes of her wearing a discharged ring for it to become fully charged. Plus, it was the right thing to do, she thought.

Decision made, Taylor moved onto her next idea. After seeing how effective Kid Win's hoverboard had been, she had to admit to a bit of jealousy over the versatility of the other's transportation. More than anything else, Taylor wanted a form of faster transportation for herself.

Of course the only issue was that she didn't have the slightest idea how to go about making it, or if it was even possible. Still, if she could make a necklace that warned of danger, and a bracer than made her a mid-level Brute, Taylor didn't see why she couldn't make something would let her fly or run really, really fast.

In aid of this goal, Taylor had gathered several things together in her bedroom and set them on or next to her bed. There was an old alarm clock, another half dozen plastic bracelets, her last four cheap rings, a broken skateboard that she'd picked up from someone's trash, a pair of roller skates that she'd long outgrown, and her first bicycle.

The clock was there to help create a sense of urgency more than anything else, so Taylor picked it up and slowly turned it around in her hands. She needed speed and to arrive quickly, but before anything else, she needed to better center herself than she'd done earlier with the Regeneration rings.

Taylor closed her eyes and let herself relax. Over and over again, within the confines of her own head, she repeated the following mantra: I am in a safe place and there is no need for anger. After doing so for several minutes Taylor finally opened her eyes and allowed herself to just feel.

Taylor felt her eyes being drawn to the clock in her hands. For a moment she had the strangest feeling that if she tried to imbue it, the result would less than desirable. Maybe even dangerous. Carefully, she set it aside and next picked up one of the bracelets.

Taylor closed her eyes again and focused on the bracelet. For a fleeting moment, she again felt that strange feeling. Trying to focus upon it was so much harder than trying to find a needle in a haystack and Taylor gave up after a few minutes of trying. Besides, the feeling, call it a sixth sense, had already told her the bracelet would likely not work for what she was trying to do.

Stifling a feeling of excitement over the possibility she was finally getting a handle on her power, Taylor set the bracelet aside and touched a ring. Immediately, she knew it was wrong and let it drop from her hands. Taking a deep breath, Taylor moved on.

The skateboard seemed to hint at possibilities, as did the skates, but it was the old, beat up bicycle that _felt_ the best to her. Carefully, Taylor continued to focus upon her breathing, allowing an image to slowly form in her mind. There is no anger, she thought. She was safe. But she needed to be somewhere quickly. She needed to _arrive_.

Taylor's total focus was upon her need and the image of its alleviation. The feeling within her was urgent and all-consuming. Taylor had to be somewhere _now_!

Taking all of that urgency, that utter desperation for speed, Taylor _pushed_ it into the bicycle in her hands. At the same time, she held onto an image inside her mind with iron determination. She could feel her old childhood friend changing, becoming something other. Her breathing still completely even, Taylor felt a link forged between what had been her bicycle and her own being. Slowly, almost tentatively, she opened her eyes to gaze upon what she'd created.

Where before, there had been a bicycle propped up against her bed, there was now a very different device. The tires were now gone, and the frame had been replaced by one long straight piece of slick gray stone that was approximately eight inches thick for half its length, slowly tapering down to just under two inches at the tip. From the front tip to the solid rear of the thing, it was perhaps ten feet long. Taylor's eyes widened in astonishment as she saw that it hung in the air with nothing supporting it.

A moment's careful inspection showed that many of the things that had been present on the bicycle seemed mirrored to some degree on its replacement. The bicycle's handlebars had only changed a small amount, still allowing someone riding it to hold on there, although they clearly no longer steered it. On the other hand, the long seat of the bicycle had lengthened and broadened slightly, to better fit Taylor's tall, slender form and to allow for a passenger.

There were grips on which to place your feet that hung from the bottom of the device, attached to it by long vertical lengths of slick, inch thick gray stone. They looked to be the perfect length for Taylor's legs. Another set just behind again demonstrated that a passenger could be carried with ease.

All in all, it only bore a loose resemblance to the picture that Taylor had had in her mind throughout the process. A picture of a device from an old science fiction movie from Earth Aleph. It had been the third of a trilogy and she'd never even watched the first two, not a huge loss as it hadn't been all that great. But Taylor had loved the part where heroes had rocketed off aboard what in the movie had been called hoverbikes. Not that she'd call hers the same thing, as it was both smaller and far simpler than the movie's transportation devices had been.

Strangely, her new imbued item, which Taylor was already calling a Flight Stick in her mind, barely glowed. Instead, it was mostly a glossy gray until you reached the very rear of the Stick's center tube. There, a rainbow of colors glowed so intensely that they made Taylor blink and look away, afterimages dancing across her eyes. The colors there clashed and pulsed in seeming chaos. By squinting, Taylor managed to watch it a few moments, but could not make heads or tails of the way first one color pulsed in primacy, then fell away into another.

Staring at the coolest thing she'd made yet, the only thing that went through Taylor's mind at that moment was how was she going to get the thing out of her room?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor had managed to get the Flight Stick out of her room, down the stairs and into the basement before her dad got home from work. Like all of her things, it was oddly light and responsive to her touch and even better, floated alongside her. Of course, she had left at least one long scrape along the paint on the second floor hallway outside her room while trying to maneuver it around a corner. Hopefully, her dad wouldn't notice any time soon.

All throughout dinner, Taylor was antsy, so much so, that her dad actually commented on it. His eyes looking warm and concerned, Danny asked, ″Kiddo, is everything okay? You seem to be a bit jazzed.″

Staring at her dad from across the table, Taylor struggled to think of something to say. Rather than outright lie to him, she decided to prevaricate just a little. ″Sorry, Dad. I'm in the middle of reading To Kill A Mockingbird for English. You know how much Mom liked that book.″

Danny's eyes became momentarily distant, then he slowly smiled. ″I do remember. I can understand how reading it would bring back old memories.″ He hesitated a moment, then in a diffident tone, asked, ″Could I borrow it when you're done? It's been a long time since I read it.″

Taylor held out her hand and covered her dad's where it sat on the table. ″Of course. It shouldn't be long. Which reminds me, you still haven't checked over my homework from last week to make sure I'm doing it.″

Danny shrugged. ″Are you doing it?″

″Of course I am.″

″I'm not worried about your homework. I trust that you'll take care of it.″ Danny smiled at her, the faith in his eyes making Taylor feel bad about not coming clean regarding her extracurricular activities. Then again, how could she tell her dad she was a Parahuman vigilante going after the gangs and trying to fix their city?

In the end, Taylor kept silent and disappeared upstairs with a copy of the book in question. It really was a good book, one she enjoyed rereading for what was probably the fourth time. Still, Taylor chaffed at the delay. Tonight, it seemed as if the clock would never hit midnight.

Finally, however, it was time to go out and Taylor quickly put on her costume. She headed downstairs and into the basement. A moment later, she was maneuvering her Flight Stick back up the stairs and out the back door.

Staring at the Flight Stick, which floated at waist level alongside her, Taylor tentatively slipped a leg over the center pole and plopped down onto the seat. Now all she had to do was make it go. Except that was something that was far from obvious. There was nothing on the Flight Stick, no controls or anything else, to indicate how the thing moved.

Maneuvering her body carefully, Taylor gripped the handlebars, which were at exactly the right height and distance to allow her sit in perfect comfort. Then she drummed her feet against the sides of the Flight Stick. A slow creeping red flush stole over Taylor's face as she realized she was treating the item she'd created as if it were a recalcitrant horse.

Okay, she thought, it can't be that hard to make this thing go. Before Taylor had even completed her thought, the Flight Stick had taken off like a bullet from a gun, with her just barely hanging on. A second later, and she was about to hit the back fence. Taylor shouted, ″Stop!″ Just like that, the Flight Stick came to an instantaneous stop mere inches from the wooden fence.

Taylor started to open her mouth, then stopped. It had started on a thought, likely it would also stop on one. Or go backwards. Carefully, Taylor sent a thought along her link to the Flight Stick. A second later, she was moving in reverse. Then she rose higher into the air and took off.

A few moments later, it was all Taylor could not to shriek in sheer glee as she zipped across the night sky. She was moving at well over a hundred miles an hour and it didn't feel like it was nearly the Stick's top speed. To maneuver, all Taylor had to do was lean her body to one side or another, as well as think about the way she wanted to go. It could even perform ninety degree turns at speed.

Even better, her danger sense worked well with the Flight Stick, notifying Taylor of any issues arising in time for her to avoid them. Like the power line she'd just avoided that would have swept her off the bike and onto the ground more than thirty feet below. All in all, it was an amazing experience to ride it.

If there was a single drawback to the Flight Stick, it was that it couldn't rise any higher than about forty feet above the ground. So Taylor wouldn't be zipping over the buildings of downtown. Then again, zigzagging around them would be at least as fun.

For now, though, Taylor needed to head over to the hospital. Grinning so hard her face hurt, she zoomed into the night.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

″Dr Stevens? Can you please come to the ER?″ The nurse's voice making the announcement contained some indecipherable emotion.

Robert sighed and got up from his desk and its scattered paperwork. If they needed his help in the ER, it usually meant a major shoot out between rival gangs. With visions of violent and bloody young men dancing through his head, Robert headed for the ER at a jog.

Upon arrival, Robert found things to be surprisingly quiet. There was none of the shouted epithets and threats that usually resounded after a blow up between the ABB and Empire 88, or any of the three or four smaller gangs in Brockton Bay.

Instead, there was a tall figure dressed all in gray, who stood in front of the ER check in desk. Facing the figure, was Stella Fitzgerald, the RN in charge of admissions. Standing nearby was their night security guard, Phillip Maxwell, who carefully kept his hands well away from his sidearm as he stood waiting patiently.

Stella's voice held a large measure of relief as she greeted Robert, ″Dr Stevens. This is Carnelian. She's got something she wants to talk to someone about.″

Robert carefully sized up what could only be a Parahuman. Carnelian stood nearly eye level to Robert's own six foot frame. She was intimidating if for no other reason than because her helmet was completely featureless. He briefly wondered if that was the reason most of the Wards and Protectorate members had at least part of their faces visible in their costumes. If so, it was clear that Carnelian felt no need to do the same.

In an even tone, Robert held out his hand and said, ″Hello, I'm Dr Roberts. What can I do for you?″

Carnelian carefully shook his hand, her grip surprisingly firm, and said, ″It's nice to meet you, Dr Roberts. I'm Carnelian. I'm here to help you, actually.″

Carnelian's voice sounded a great deal like his own teenage daughter's, and Robert revised the other's age downwards. Cautiously, he asked, ″How would you be helping me?″

Carnelian pulled off one of her gauntlets and carefully took off two of the several rings she was wearing on her slim fingers. She handed them to Robert, who nervously clasped them tightly in one hand, and said, ″I want to give these to the hospital. I made them. They're Regeneration rings. They can each completely heal a person every three days or so, or about four people a week total.″

Robert felt his grip loosen slightly as he cradled the rings he'd been handed reverently. Hesitantly, he asked, ″Have these been approved by the Protectorate?″

Carnelian froze for just a moment, and Robert had the impression she was angry, something confirmed by a strained note in her voice as she answered, ″No, they have not. But they work. With zero side effects. If you want, you can test them first. If you brave enough, we can test them on you as well as myself.″

Robert quailed a little at the Parahuman's words. Was she implying... As he watched her draw a blade from her waist, he realized exactly what she was implying. ″I'm not sure that's the best way to show how they work...″

Ignoring his words, Carnelian took the knife and quickly cut herself right on the palm of the hand without a gauntlet. Holding up her now bloody hand, she stood there silently as Robert watched in disbelief. The wound on her hand closed as if by magic and less than thirty seconds later was completely gone. Then Carnelian held out her hand in a wordless demand.

Robert laid his own hand in hers in a gesture of faith. He winced as he felt his hand being cut even though the knife was so sharp it didn't really even hurt. Then he watched as his hand healed just as fast as Carnelian's had.

There was an undercurrent of enthusiasm in his voice as Robert stated, ″That's amazing. What's the vehicle for the regeneration? Is it a form of radiation? Or is it biological?″

Carnelian made a gesture somewhere between a headshake and a shrug. ″I don't know. I do know that it works and works well. Do you want the rings or not?″

″Yes.″ The word was out of Robert's mouth before he fully considered the repercussions of using untested technology. Still, it had clearly healed him. And with the way current liability laws were written, it was easy enough to word a release form to indemnify the hospital.

Not that Robert thought any of that was truly necessary. He suspected that the rings that Carnelian was giving away were at least as good as she'd explained them to be. She'd been too confident, her willingness to injure herself to demonstrate their effectiveness too compelling for him to believe otherwise.

Carnelian interrupted the moment of silence that had been going on. ″I only have two conditions for allowing the rings to be used here. First, do not charge people for using the rings. After all, I am not charging you. Second, prioritize people who have something truly wrong with them over anything less serious.″

Robert gravely nodded. ″I believe I can promise the hospital's cooperation with that. Is there anything else I need to know about the rings? Any issues or concerns?″

Carnelian nodded her head. ″Just a couple of things. They discharge through contact with the skin, so make sure anyone carrying them around wears gloves. A minor injury might not fully discharge the ring so it will be ready sooner. Also, I may occasionally show up here and recharge the rings ahead of schedule. If I do, they can be used again immediately.″

For a second, Robert's brain froze. Was she serious? Carnelian could recharge the rings? Carefully, he asked, ″How long does it take you to recharge one of the rings?″

Carnelian shrugged. ″I can do them both at the same time in a couple of minutes. I'll try to stop by as often as I can. However, I expect to be busy for the most part.″

Before Robert could think, he blurted out, ″Busy with what?″ After all, what could be more important that healing people?

Carnelian's tone was deadly serious as she stated, ″Cleaning our city of the infestation that currently plagues it. Only when the gangs are gone, and we can once more walk our city's streets in safety will I be done.″

Okay, Robert thought, Carnelian's a few bricks shy of a load. But, crazy or not, she had given them something precious. There was a great deal of gratitude in his voice as he said, ″Thank you very much, Carnelian. You're going to save a lot of lives with these rings.″

There was a sense of shyness in Carnelian's voice as she responded that once again made Robert wonder just how old the girl behind the mask was. ″You're welcome, Dr Stevens. Let me have the rings for just a second. There, they're full again. I have to go now. The city needs me.″

And just like that, she walked out the ER's doors. There was a sense of amazed detachment as Robert watched the Parahuman get aboard some odd looking machine that looked a little like something out of Star Wars and take off almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Robert's gaze traveled from the now gone cape to the rings he held in his hands. Walking over the admission's desk and the silently waiting nurse manning it, he said, ″Let's keep this between us for now, okay? We don't want the wrong people to hear about what we have and cause problems. Can I count on both of your cooperation?″

″Yes, doctor.″

″Yes, sir.″

Robert took the rings back to his office. As much as he'd like to use them on a patient tonight, he couldn't justify the exposure for the hospital. Still, he'd make sure something happened by this time tomorrow to allow their use. After all, he already had two patients in mind for them who right now were slowly dying in hospice care.

Sitting back down at his desk, Robert smiled as the kink in his back seemed to be gone. Had those rings... fixed his back somehow? A few movements later and he was convinced that they had. Robert said a silent prayer for Carnelian as he planned how best to convince the legal department of the urgency of the rings' usage.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Emily slammed the newspaper down on the conference table and pointed at the headline. She almost snarled as she exclaimed, ″Does anyone have an explanation for that?″

The headline that Emily was pointing at read, ″Carnelian: Vigilante or Hero?″

It had been nearly a week and a half since the vigilante had dropped off those rings at a local hospital. They had become a poorly held secret almost immediately as those healed from their effects effusively praised the cape. Of course their existence was just another headache for Emily to have to deal with.

Armsmaster shrugged. His tone was even as he stated, ″I wanted to take the rings into custody for testing but the hospital already obtained a federal judge's order allowing their use, pending any issues. Plus there would be substantial fallout if we were to act unilaterally.″

Emily rubbed her aching temples. ″I know. It's a public relations nightmare. There is no way to contain knowledge of Carnelian's tech now.″

The sheer smugness that permeated Armsmaster's tone made Emily want to strangle him as he said, ″I told you she was a Tinker. The rings just prove it.″

Emily sat in her uncomfortable chair and stared around the table. The rooms occupants consisted of her, Miss Militia, Armsmaster, and Aegis. The inclusion of the leader of the Wards made her a bit more hesitant to really take the Protectorate leader to task, but Emily wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to restrain herself if he continued making statements like that one.

Instead, Emily focused upon a quick recap of what had been discovered. ″All right, people, let's review. Ten days ago, Carnelian walked into Isiah Morris Memorial Hospital, in one of the poorer parts of Brockton Bay, and dropped off two rings with the head resident there. She left via some form of transportation that was described by one witness as a 'hoverbike' from Star Wars. By the next day, the rings were already being put into use, meaning the hospital's legal team must have scrambled to put together a document indemnifying them from liability.″

Emily took a deep breath, then let it out. ″We subsequently asked Panacea of New Wave to check the six people healed so far through the use of the devices. She pronounced all of them as being completely cured despite one being diagnosed with Stage IVB ovarian cancer and another suffering from a terminal case of heart disease. Before being healed, all but two of the patients were under hospice care at the hospital, meaning they were likely to die in a very short time. Does this accurately describe the situation so far?″

Miss Militia offered, ″Don't forget that Panacea said that the ring's effects fixed their bodies completely, not just healing them of the diseases they were suffering. After treatment by the rings, all of those people are now one hundred percent healthy. So the rings do far more than just heal people. They seem to bring someone to the absolute peak of health.″

Aegis shifted uneasily. Emily pinned him with a gimlet glare. She demanded, ″Did you have something to add, Aegis?″

″No, ma'am. Although...″

″Just spit it out.″

″I don't understand just why this is such an issue. Isn't having another healer in the city a good thing? Especially with the amount of gang violence we have here?″

Emily waved her hand at Armsmaster, letting him take this one. True to form, the armored cape was succinct. ″Carnelian isn't a healer.″

Aegis shook his head. ″I don't understand, sir.″

Miss Militia filled in the myriad details that Armsmaster skipped. ″What Armsmaster is saying, Aegis, is that Carnelian may be able to heal people, something she demonstrated before, but she isn't a healer. Exactly what she is, we don't know. However, what we do know shows that she is becoming more and more dangerous. Take her powerset, for example. Despite Armsmaster's claims of her being a Tinker, during last night's clash with the Merchants, Carnelian showed Brute abilities. She threw an abandoned car at a group of Merchants shooting at her from inside a crack house. It was incredibly lucky there were no fatalities as the car went halfway through the house before lodging against an interior wall.″

Aegis slowly nodded. ″So you're afraid of her potential, is that what you're saying?″

Emily nodded wearily. ″Something like that. Equally dangerous, she is becoming a magnet for trouble, spawning fights wherever she goes. I am surprised that she has not encountered a Parahuman member of any of the gangs yet. Still, it's just a matter of time before she does, especially with her now increased mobility. That worries me most of all. Carnelian battling someone like Hookwolf, Kaiser, or God forbid, _Lung_ , is pretty much our worst-case scenario.″

Miss Militia said, ″Director, we're going to have to rethink her designation.″

″I'm aware of that, Miss Militia. Let's go with this. Add Brute 3 and Mover 4 to Carnelian's current abilities list.″

Armsmaster calmly stated, ″I think we should also drop the Striker from her designation. It's clear that she is a Tinker.″

Emily somehow kept her dislike for the other from her voice as she said, ″Is that based upon your observation of Carnelian's devices, Armsmaster.″

Grudgingly, the Tinker shook his head. ″No, Director Piggot. As was stated in my report, I only got a brief glimpse of the rings in question. Subsequently, I could not understand Carnelian's technology other than in the crudest of ways, such as the durability of her items and a few other small gleanings. It was not enough to even indirectly show the basis of her tech, nor to duplicate it in any way. I might be able to do more if I had those rings in my laboratory.″

Emily shook her head. ″Wishful thinking for now. We'll continue designating her both as a Striker and a Tinker until we know for sure. Now, let's discuss exactly how we are going to approach Carnelian during our next encounter with her. I want each of you to communicate the following to your teams...″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor slid around the corner at around seventy miles an hour, momentarily wishing for a speedometer. Still, it wasn't as if she really needed one. And her danger sense always let her know if something or someone was in the way.

So far, the only drawback she'd found in traveling around via her Flight Stick was that it was too easy to miss crime when she was moving so quickly. So for the most part, Taylor had to keep her speed down around forty miles per hour or even less, which was sad as it seemed capable of speeds in excess of ten times that.

Still, she'd rounded up quite a few criminals over the past couple of nights, including a rather large group of Merchants. What Taylor hadn't encountered yet was a single Parahuman even though she'd had her Flight Stick for nearly three weeks now. Not that she was complaining really, but it would be nice if just once, she had the chance to test her own abilities against those of a Parahuman member of Empire 88 or the Merchants.

Just then, a glaring explosion of light skittered across Taylor's eyes. Fortunately, her helmet seemed to automatically adjust for all levels of glare and she wasn't blinded. Which allowed Taylor to see the car that went flying past her to slam into the middle of the street a hundred feet the other side of her, subsequently exploding and again lighting up the night skies. Up ahead, she could see some kind of altercation occurring. Zipping forward on her Stick, Taylor came to a stop at the edge of the battlefield, appalled by what was happening in front of her.

Everywhere Taylor could see, there was devastation. The only thing that kept this from becoming a major disaster was the fight was taking place within the confines of the Docks. The surrounding buildings were all empty warehouses with a sprinkling of closed and abandoned factories thrown in.

Which was a very good thing as the opponents on one side of the battle occurring in front of her were none other than a majority of the capes belonging to Empire 88. From just a glance, Taylor could see Fenja and Menja, Hookwolf, Kaiser, Krieg, Cricket, and Rune. However, they weren't what made Taylor's heart almost skip a beat before beginning to pound in excitement. No, the person causing those strange feelings inside of her was none other than Lung himself, already grown to over nine feet and still climbing.

Even as Taylor watched, a huge blast of white hot flames erupted from the dragonish cape, engulfing an approaching Hookwolf, who had to duck away momentarily, until the glow of his metallic blades faded to merely red, before returning to the fight.

Exultation seemed to rise within Taylor as she slowly drew her sword of Wrath, her eyes seemingly mesmerized by the conflict. Before her sat a large number of her enemies, their auras black and red and so many other hues. They who were the true source of her city's cancer. They who would oppose _her_ , seek to do harm to her city. But not today. Because today, _she_ was going to teach the scum before her who they truly needed to fear, as well as that all actions have consequences.

With a scream of unbridled rage, Taylor sent her steed directly into the fray before her, determined to strike down her enemies, to drive them before her. Before she was done, they would _run_ or they would _die_. Upon this, she pledged her very life.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	9. Chapter Nine: I Am Created Shiva, the D

**Chapter Nine: I Am Created Shiva, the Destroyer**

Coil sat in his office within the fortress he'd had built under a city skyscraper and brooded. The subject of his thoughts was none other than Carnelian, Brockton Bay's newest vigilante and a persistent thorn in his side. Not because she'd actually interfered in any of his capers, but because she lurked out there, dangerous and unpredictable. The last thing Coil needed was additional instability not of his own doing being mixed into the melting pot of his city at this late date.

It was clear that the other cape was dangerous, although just how dangerous, he couldn't be sure. Coil was aware of the reports generated within the PRT about the vigilante, having read all of them more than once. But they didn't reveal anything truly telling, too much of the information contained within being theory and conjecture.

It was time to test the other cape, past time if the truth be told. He'd handed Tattletale the task of recruiting her, but honestly, Coil didn't really expect the blonde Thinker to succeed. No, Carnelian was too much a harbinger of violent justice to accept the villain's role. Still, there was a possibility of success, however remote, so he allowed her to continue while he put yet another plan into effect. One with a far stronger possibility for a successful outcome.

Coil split the timeline. In one, he sent the Undersiders to Isiah Morris Memorial Hospital to steal the rings that Carnelian had dropped off there. In the other, they stayed at home and relaxed, well away from any danger.

The resulting bloodshed saw the loss of two members of their team and the maiming of two others. Just like that, the Undersiders ceased to exist, all of their members dead or broken. Coil scratched his head at the result as they'd been instructed to surrender the rings if confronted by Carnelian. What had gone wrong?

Knowing it was far too early to discard such valuable tools, Coil ended that timeline. Again, he split timelines. Again, he arranged for the rings to be stolen. This time, he had them delivered here, to his redoubt, where all of his troops waited, as did the Undersiders, fully prepared to repel any attack and to make any attackers pay in blood for the attempt.

Hours later, he died, a gray, razor sharp sword thrust completely through his body while the remnants of his base burned around him. So far as he knew, he'd been the last survivor. Confronted by a rage-filled, screaming Carnelian, he'd attempted to surrender, only for the failure to turn deadly. Coil discarded the already collapsed timeline with a shiver, then split again.

Over and over, he arranged for the rings to be stolen. Over and over, Carnelian found them and wreaked her vengeance, each time seemingly more hideous than the last. It was as if the more force he attempted to use against the other, the more violently she responded. Blood beget blood.

Neither Tattletale's Thinker abilities, Grue's darkness, or even the force of Bitch's dogs so much as slowed Carnelian down. During one timeline, Tattletale did shout out one interesting fact before she died, that Carnelian could seemingly see all of them through Grue's darkness as if it wasn't there. Coil made a note of it, but it didn't help during any of the subsequent battles.

In the end, he had to move the rings all the way to Boston before Carnelian seemed unable to locate them. Unfortunately, there they were too far away to be useful, plus they seemed to recharge much more slowly than in Brockton Bay. In the end, Coil abandoned that approach completely. The rings, while useful, were not the way to understanding Carnelian.

So if it was too difficult to battle Carnelian directly, he would instead use cats paws to achieve his aims. Who better than his rivals and opponents within the criminal underworld? Coil was aware that there was a vastly increased tension among the gangs of Brockton Bay since the vigilante cape's debut. Empire 88, the ABB, and the Merchants were all full of pressures that were on a razor thin edge of blowing off. At any moment, there could be an explosion of bloody violence.

As it turned out, it only took splitting timelines another ten times to achieve his aims. Five sufficed to arrange for the two forces he needed to come into contact. The other five were necessary so that Carnelian could be lured into the crucible he'd created for her. Now Coil would see exactly what this cape was made of. Now he would _know._

To facilitate his knowledge, Coil decided upon one more thing. As with all things, he gave it careful consideration before making the call. When the line was picked up, he announced, ″Tattletale, I have a job for you.″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

As Taylor rocketed towards the towering, burning figure of Lung, all she could think of was that this was what she'd been born for. To strike down her enemies, those who would further corrupt an already festering city, like squirming maggots hatching and devouring a rotting corpse from within.

But Taylor knew that Brockton Bay still lived. It was inhabited by people like her father, who strove to revive their once great city. By people like Kurt and Lacey, who lived good lives, working hard to leave the world a better place once they passed. People like her mother, who'd been born there, lived there, and died there. Those were the people she fought for, bled for, would die for. They deserved her.

They-

Her danger sense fired three times in rapid succession, and it was all she could do to avoid the savage attacks. Rolling so fast she should have been tossed onto the ground ten feet below her, Taylor avoided the first barrage, as a jagged piece of concrete half the size of a car blew through the space where her head and shoulders had just been.

That was followed by another piece of concrete of roughly equal size that rose directly in front of Taylor, which only her ducking beneath it, while still upside down, allowing her to miss it. Of course, her head was so close to the ground by this time that dust rose in a trail behind her. That was when the last attack hit.

A series of sharp steel blades suddenly rose in Taylor's path and would have struck her directly through the head and torso, testing her armor's integrity, if she hadn't rolled right back over and turned ninety degrees to her initial path as soon as her danger sense warned her.

Taylor screamed in frustration, somehow managing to still hold onto her sword, red rage dimming her eyesight. She knew now who had attacked her. Empire 88, most of whom were huddled behind cover at the other side of the battlefield, had launched a sneak attack upon her when all she'd wanted to do was confront Lung. Of course they hadn't stopped her. That would be their last mistake.

Sheathing her sword, Taylor glanced over to her left where Lung was handling Hookwolf, Cricket, and Stormtiger. Grimly, she turned back to her right where Kaiser, Krieg, and the other capes of Empire 88 hid from her like roaches behind the walls. So be it.

Taylor pulled back further and further still until she was completely out of the Nazi capes' range, then launched herself directly at them. Taking her hands off of the handlebars of her bike, she pulled four of her grenades form her sides, two Wrath and two Regurgitation. Holding one of each in each of her hands, she piloted a nastily zigzagging course, ducking down to a foot above street level, then almost to her max height, before diving again.

There was a sense of wild freedom in doing this. Moving so randomly, fast and crazy, with only one though on her mind besides survival: Laying low her enemies.

Almost, a blade managed to skewer her. Almost, huge chunks of concrete, rusty red rebar sticking out like spidery, grasping fingers, managed to slam her to the ground. Almost, something resembling nothing so much as a ghost managed to drive a spear through her. But, in the end, they all missed, as Taylor's danger sense wove her through a net of death and destruction.

Then, with a suddenness that was as nearly instantaneous as the human mind could register, Taylor halted her flight, even as long steel blades erupted from the ground in front of her, blocking her path. She threw the grenades in her hands as hard as she could at targets barely half visible, hiding behind cars and inside the doorways of battered buildings. Before they had even struck, she had another set on the way. But, as it turned out, the second set was overkill.

As the grenades rocketed towards their targets, one man stepped forward from out of his cover. Taylor's eyes narrowed as she saw Krieg, the Empire cape who was known to be a telekinetic. He waved his hands theatrically as if to halt the flight of her grenades and turn them back on her. A cold smile stole over her features as they continued on their flight, as if oblivious to the telekinetic, whose panicked curses were audible even from here. Then she detonated them.

Huge pulses of bilious yellow and blazing crimson blew through the area, followed by another set as Taylor saturated the area. Grimly, she watched as Krieg was enveloped by both effects, and blasted into a pile of broken concrete and debris. Rebar, now red from something other than rust, jutted from his body. Others, ranging from Kaiser to the Nazi group's healer, Othala, were also laid low by the effects. Some were vomiting their guts out, while others lay broken and still.

Only a form dressed all in black with skin and hair as white as snow, who Taylor tentatively identified as Alabaster still stood, then he, too, fell to the ground heaving his guts out.

A moment later, Alabaster stood again, then almost immediately collapsed to the ground vomiting again. Then he did it yet again. Taylor had no idea what was going on with the white-skinned cape, and didn't really care. Instead, she briefly surveyed the area below her, even as she continued to guide her Flight Stick in jinky movements up and down and back and forth, just in case there was someone within the wreckage still capable of fighting her.

A shout from behind Taylor drew her attention, and she turned to find all three of the remaining Empire capes heading her way as fast as they could move, leaving Lung standing there impotent behind them in complete surprise. Rage, which had slowly waned as she crushed those who had stood against here, blazed forth. And Taylor launched herself directly at the huge whirling bladed figure coming toward her.

There was nothing in Taylor's world but the view of the monster barreling down on her. At some point, she'd drawn her Wrath sword and held it in one hand, while her shield still adorned her arm. She rode her Flight Stick as if it were a well-trained horse, guiding it with her mind and the swaying movements of her body.

The first to reach her was Cricket, who had started from so much closer to her than the other two. The strange looking cape, dressed in leather armor with the metal cage over her face, leaped upwards, trying to use both her odd looking sickle-like weapons to sweep Taylor from her vehicle. It turned out her blades were no match for Taylor's own and half of one blade fell to the ground accompanied by all of another still held in the grip of a severed hand.

Then Taylor struck the huge whirring figure of Hookwolf. For a moment, it was as if she had been enveloped by a farm machine, some enormous thresher whose sole purpose was to reap lives. Even as she spun and whirled, Taylor struck out savagely with her Wrath sword, again and again, while simultaneously detonating her glowing crimson rings over and over.

The world finally came to a halt around her and Taylor shakily rose to her feet. All around her were the heat shimmers of the blazing hot fragments of the Parahuman who had been known as Hookwolf. He would fight no more as the edge of her sword and the blasting power of her rings had literally torn him apart from the inside. A few feet in front of Taylor was what might have been his innermost core, now just a hunk of crushed and shattered gears with steaming red fluid leaking from within.

Taylor looked all around her, expecting another attack from the airborne Stormtiger, but she saw him flying off with the figure of Cricket in his arms, her remaining hand dangling beneath her. There was at least one other Empire cape still up because she could see someone back there carrying what appeared to be the bodies of the still living.

Almost, Taylor turned around to deal with them more permanently, but a roar ahead of her changed her mind. She spun to face Lung, who was glaring at her, as if upset that she'd spoiled his fun. His appearance was grossly inhuman, silvery scales covering most of his body, while his face had elongated until his mouth most nearly resembled a snout filled with razor sharp teeth. His eyes were fierce and burned the red of embers. Even as Taylor watched, Lung sent a gout of flame blasting into the air, as if challenging her. Her subsequent scream of rage answered his challenge.

Mounting her Flight Stick,Taylor sent it on a collision course with Lung, her sword out and ready. Before she could close with him, he sent an enveloping blast of flame to cover her completely. Taylor immediately rolled and blasted off diagonally away as the hulking creature swung razor sharp claws through the space where she'd been a moment ago, her danger sense warning her of the attack. She immediately spun around on a reciprocal course and viciously swung her blazing blade toward Lung's head.

The dragonish cape easily avoided Taylor's attack, moving far faster than something his size should be able to. She, on the other hand, would have been struck by his riposte if not for the warning ahead of time by her danger sense. Even then, Taylor felt the faint pressure of Lung's tail striking her shield in passing.

Deciding to see just how fast Lung really was, Taylor swung back at him and immediately went full speed straight at him. Then she stopped no more than a foot away as the other cape braced for her impact. She was swinging her Wrath sword at Lung's upraised arm even before she came to a halt.

Her sword cleaved scales, flesh, and bone, sending the offending limb off in a spray of crimson that almost immediately ceased to flow. Whether it was her power or his, Taylor didn't know. What she did know was that the world turned upside down as Lung slammed his opposite shoulder into her Flight Stick, sending it and her spinning end over end for a moment.

Bringing her steed back under control, Taylor surveyed the damage she'd done. Lung's left arm was gone from just below the elbow. But even as she watched, a new arm was growing out of the stump. And Lung gained another foot, now towering more than ten feet high.

″Mmm gwennn ta kwull ooo.″

Taylor interpreted that to mean, ″I'm going to kill you.″ Crimson flames as bright as the white fire that emanated from Lung momentarily cut off her vision as madness ripped away reason. Then she arrowed straight at the other cape. This time her aim was true and Taylor's Wrath sword bit deeply into the beast's chest before blasting out the other side in a gout of blood and flame.

She swung back around to make another pass, only to see Lung seemingly flee from her towards the side of the street. Taylor immediately gave chase, pouring on the speed as the monster ahead of seemed to stumble. Then her danger sense was screaming at her to _avoid, avoid, avoid_.

As fast as Taylor spun herself, she seemed to move in slow motion compared to her opponent. More monstrous than ever, his flesh having already knitted together, Lung rose from the ground, a metal lightpole that had been toppled earlier in his hand. He swung it like a baseball bat at Taylor, who couldn't avoid it in time. And just like that, she was flying through the air, orientation completely lost.

Taylor lost her sword and her grip on her Flight Stick, landing with some force upon the ground. Before she could get to her feet, Lung was there. This time, he slammed a huge foot down with crushing force upon her, while she desperately blocked the strike with her shield. Still, as strong as Lung was, Taylor didn't find him to be any heavier than the things she'd picked up a few days back and was able to begin lifting him off of her.

Then Lung, in a fit of rage of his own, reached both hand down and grabbed Taylor around the upper arms, pulling her from the ground. She couldn't get loose! She had known Lung was strong, but this was beyond her worst nightmares. Her arms trapped at her sides, Taylor writhed in the grip of a creature so much mightier than herself. But she couldn't free herself no matter how she struggled. And she could feel her body start to give.

″Ooo wall paaah.″

″You will pay.″ Screaming imprecations, Taylor decided the first payment would be Lung's. Flipping her legs up to push against the silver-scaled chest of the dragonish cape, she strove to move an immovable object, just as she had so many days before in the Ship's Graveyard. But this time, Taylor wore her costume. This time, she had numerous rings of Wrath upon both her hands and feet.

Unleashing them all at once made an enormous blast of blazing crimson illuminate the world around her. Taylor was finally loose, and flying through the air. She laughed at the sensation of freedom, knowing she'd harmed the other.

Then Taylor landed, the ground slamming into her with more force than had anything previously. Pain briefly arced through her, then the soothing effects of her rings took over. She lay there a few seconds, almost stunned by the varied sensations, while she raised her arm into view. Staring at the armor there, Taylor could see the flickering blue glow steadily firming up within seconds. But it was an alarming thing to see when you were fighting what was possibly the most monstrous cape in the world.

Or it should have been. Instead, Taylor gave a scream of utter madness and stumbled to her feet. Almost she leaped to meet the hulking figure stalking towards her. But some semblance of sanity sent her hunting her sword. Even as crimson tunnels narrowed her vision, she found it a few feet away and quickly wrapped a hand around its hilt, lifting it off the ground. Now she was ready to kill the monster who had tried to crush her in his grasp.

Meeting Lung's attack, Taylor ducked low under the swing of a clawed hand far bigger than her head. Being so much smaller than her opponent was an edge, one that Taylor was going to try to take full advantage of. Even as Lung reared back to swing again, his roar filling the world, she cut completely through the leg nearest her, sending the monstrous Parahuman crashing to the ground. He screamed in rage and pain, while a white hot blast of flame covered Taylor.

Her feet sinking into the suddenly smoking hot liquid material that the asphalt had become, Taylor was already planning her next move. Despite the camouflage of Lung's flames, she could still see him. His aura, composed of blacks and reds, with a scattering of other brilliant colors, blazed before her, refusing to be hidden by mere fire. When he rose on one foot, the stump of the other held awkwardly to one side, she rose as well, moving out of the fire onto firmer ground.

Taylor was aware that during all of this time, she was snarling and screaming at her foe, like some rabid animal. Some distant sense seemed to warn her just how dangerous this was against an opponent like Lung. So at the same time she was mentally guiding her Flight Stick in an immense circle that would culminate in the other Parahuman's lower back, Taylor instinctively poured her rage and anger into the sword in her hands in an effort to clear her mind.

Her blade grew two feet and its glow increased exponentially. Taylor felt bathed in crimson fire as she stared at the beautiful thing she now held. More than six and a half feet long, _this_ was a fitting weapon with which to slay a dragon. Mere seconds later, her Flying Stick slammed into Lung's back, the blunt point on the front of it bursting out from his stomach. He roared as he futilely tried to pull it from him.

Instead, with a thought, Taylor sent it into reverse. The Flight Sick launched away from the man-dragon, accompanied by an immense spray of blood. Even as Lung swatted at her retreating steed, his wound from it was already beginning to heal. As was his leg, now almost fully grown out from the stump. Still, Taylor fearlessly stalked towards the rapidly healing cape to deal the final blow.

Except she now had an audience. More than half a dozen members of the Protectorate were grouped less than a hundred feet away, ready to intervene in her fight. Taylor knew that if she tried to kill Lung, they would interfere. So, instead, she did something completely unexpected.

Standing before the other cape, Taylor lifted her arms as if in invitation and waited until Lung took a deep breath, to once again pour his flame over her. Then, as a huge gout of the hottest flame yet was expelled, she dropped her newest sword to the ground. With the same motion, she pulled the most powerful yellow grenade she had left from her waist and launched it straight into the dragon's mouth and down his throat, immediately triggering it.

The resulting blast of bilious yellow was more than large enough to encompass Lung's entire figure. For a moment, Taylor wondered if the other would be immune, if his lack of humanity at this moment would allow him to resist the illness that accompanied the grenade's emotion. Then, even as she picked up her Wrath sword, Lung's roar of flame became a hacking gout, and he collapsed to his knees, vomiting an endless stream of fire.

Taylor slowly circled Lung, watching as he regurgitated flame over and over again, the ground below him now melting and his hands and knees sinking into the softened material. Was he a tiny bit smaller, she wondered? If so, she couldn't really tell. In the end, she decided it didn't matter.

Taylor sprinted forward and leaped onto the prone figure of Lung, only the increased strength from her bracer allowing her to make the jump. She raised her hand holding the sword above her head, when a blaring voice caused her to pause.

″Do not kill Lung! I repeat, do not kill Lung, or you will be taken into custody!″

Taylor wanted to scream at the fools there. How dare they tell her what to do when they had stood by for so long? Instead, she answered them with an action that could not be changed by mere words.

Taylor drove the hand holding her sword into the back of Lung's head as hard as she could while simultaneously triggering all nine of the rings there. The blast was so intense that momentarily she was blind to the world outside. She nearly stumbled, as the surface she was standing upon, Lung's back, heaved like the deck of a ship in a storm at sea. Still blind, Taylor leaped down, guided by her danger sense. She landed easily, then turned back toward her foe.

When Taylor could see again, the first thing she noted was that Lung's head was embedded more than a foot into the molten earth. The second thing she noted was that he no longer seemed to be breathing. Then, with a sound like an overstressed engine, Lung gave a faint, rasping cough and a small amount of flame vomited forth onto her foot.

With a grimace of disgust, Taylor stepped back, her entire focus still on the other cape. But Lung didn't move. Instead, he lay there, unconscious and defeated. And so it ended.

With a twist of thought, Taylor called her Flight Stick to her. She ignored the buzzing sounds as the various Protectorate capes tried to get her attention. They were beneath her notice. Instead, she mounted and headed off to retrieve her grenades.

In the end, the other capes kept their distance and allowed Taylor to leave without hindrance. The only grenade she couldn't retrieve was the one inside of Lung. Still, despite it being perhaps the nastiest of her Regurgitation grenades, it was a small loss, as it was simple enough to make more.

And more of them both she would make. This fight had shown Taylor that she simply couldn't have enough of the devices when facing multiple foes. That she would need many, many more. Perhaps she could even carry them aboard her Flight Stick, attached to its shaft, something she hadn't tried before. Since so many of the things she made seemed to work so well together, perhaps those two would as well. If not, she would figure out another solution.

For now, Taylor was going to go home, sleep a couple of hours, then get up and live another day. Tomorrow, she'd go for a run, eat breakfast with her father, and revel in the knowledge she'd made her home town just a little bit safer. As her lips curled into a smile of satisfaction, Taylor decided that was a plan she could live it.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa turned a pale face toward Brian, whose trembles she could feel through the fingers she was currently digging into the muscles of his leg. She didn't need her power to tell her that he was terrified. Nor did she need it to understand the same thing about herself.

What the two of had witnessed was indescribable. One cape had taken down Empire 88 and Lung. One cape, whose mad, irrational behavior demonstrated her to be a powder keg that seemingly any spark would set off.

Lisa didn't understand how there weren't more bodies attributed to the vigilante cape. Certainly there had been deaths tonight. First Krieg, then Hookwolf, with several other Empire capes who would need the aid of Othala to ever walk again, Rune being one of those.

Even having witnessed the battle, Lisa couldn't understand exactly how the events that had happened had played out. How could Carnelian have won? While she clearly possessed some sort of precognition warning her of danger, where had the Brute strength and durability come from? And the strange device she'd ridden in on, that Lisa's own power told her was capable of speeds in excess of four hundred miles per hour? Worse, Carnelian had even remotely piloted it, attacking Lung while simultaneously making her sword grow larger, probably in order to deal with the dragonish cape.

It was as if the other cape crafted abilities and items whenever she needed them, molding them out of thin air. As if impossible was just another word for something she did routinely.

Even more puzzling, Lisa never would have believed that someone who was so clearly irrational, could plan and carry out attacks with so much timing and precision. Carnelian wasn't perfect, as evidenced by Lung using her as a pinata, but she had done so much more damage than she'd taken. And what little damage she'd taken had been shrugged off as if it were nothing, easily making her a Brute 4 or 5.

For a moment during the fight, Lisa had almost been able to figure something out. There had been something so strange about the 'blasts' that had taken down Empire 88, leaving most of them battered and broken in its aftermath. They'd occurred without sound or light or any other visible indication that something had occurred other than oddly asymmetric dust and debris fields, not centered upon all of the explosions. She'd poured her ability into trying to figure out the source of the effects, only to have her head begin to pound in a Thinker's migraine, as she overstressed her power.

Even now, Lisa winced as pain lanced through her brain. She needed to get back to her place and lay down in darkness with a cold compress. That was the only thing that would help. Definitely not thinking about crazy vigilantes who defied the laws of physics and reality.

Lisa's thoughts were brought to a halt by a quiet whisper from next to her. ″The Boss really expected you to try to recruit Carnelian? To recruit _that_?″

Lisa opened her mouth to say yes, then stopped. Did she dare? Deciding to go ahead, even if it meant she was useless for the next three days, Lisa pushed her power to decipher the phone call she'd received from their employer. A moment later, as agony hammered her temples, she was able to slowly shake her head no, not daring to move any faster or she would vomit.

Lisa kept her voice to a whisper as she explained, even the low sound of the words painful, ″No, he doesn't really think I can succeed. He thinks she won't join us. But he's willing to risk me for the remote possibility of success. He's worried that Carnelian will interfere with his plans.″

She didn't need her power to know that Brian was disgusted and angry at the risk to his teammate's life. She tried to mitigate his feelings by saying, ″At least he warned us that your darkness wouldn't hide us from her in case she discovered us.″

Brian nodded, then asked, ″But how did he know? You can't figure that out, even with your power.″

Lisa nodded, then immediately regretted it as her head felt it was going to split open. ″I- Shit! Grue, we need to get the fuck out of here! The Protectorate's starting to look to see if there are any other casualties of the battle. They'll be here any minute. Oh God, my head's splitting on top of everything else.″

Brian nodded, his features hidden behind the visor of the black motorcycle helmet with its stylized skull shape. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped Lisa up and then down the back stairs.

Fortunately, they did not encounter any members of the Protectorate. Or a bloodthirsty Carnelian.

An hour later, Lisa was undressed and lying in her bed back at the factory in pitch blackness, a cold compress draped across her forehead. She refused to think anymore about her employer or Carnelian. Maybe she'd do so tomorrow. After all, tomorrow was another day.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dennis looked up from his comic as the door opened with a bang. He was the only one currently on site, besides Chris who was in his lab busy Tinkering, even Missy having found something interesting to do that evening with her family. Dennis, however, was still on Monitor duty as a punishment for what had happened during his encounter with Carnelian.

The last person Dennis would have expected to see walked in. Dean Stansfield. Dennis would have thought that the other boy would have gone home after finishing up a post-patrol debriefing from Armsmaster and Miss Militia. Instead, he was here, staring at him. There was a dull horror on the boy's face that shocked Dennis. Dean seemed so much the worse for the wear in his decidedly jaundiced opinion.

Placing a gentle hand on the other's shoulder, Dennis asked, ″You okay?″

Dean shivered, then vehemently shook his head, shrugging off Dennis' hand. ″No, I'm not. I don't know if I'll ever be okay again.″

Dean took off his gauntlets and helmet, holding them a moment, before savagely throwing them across the Ward's ready room. Dennis stared, stunned, at a move so uncharacteristic of the other boy who so tried to live up to his name in costume even in his personal life. When Dean began doing the same thing with the rest of the his armor, he knew he had to intervene.

″Whoah, there, Dean. I don't think Chris will appreciate it one bit if you make him have to work overtime to fix that rust bucket of yours.″

Dean half-stumbled over the couch, collapsing there with his head in his hands. He muttered, ″I'm sorry.″

Dennis considered getting Carlos to talk to Dean, but remembered he was still in meetings with Armsmaster and Director Piggot. Chris was still in his lab and fortunately Sophia and Missy were gone. Fortunately because both girls would have likely made the situation worse, if for different reasons.

That left it to Dennis to deal with Dean. Taking a deep breath, he sat on the couch next to the other boy and settled an arm around his shaking shoulders. After a moment, Dean sighed and shrugged off his arm. ″It's okay, Dennis, I can tell how uncomfortable this makes you.″

Dennis shook his head even as he mentally agreed. ″No, I'm good. I'm here to help. So let me help. What can I do?″

Dean turned red-rimmed eyes his way. Hesitantly, he asked, ″Can you listen without interrupting or asking me any questions? I don't think I can take another inquisition.″

Dennis nodded. ″Yeah, I can do that.″

Despite his question, Dean sat there in silence for nearly ten minutes before he began to talk. There was no interval between his silence and when he began to speak, the abruptness outlining just how disturbed the other boy was.

″I was on patrol today, you know? With Carlos, which I enjoy. We're two of the oldest, other than you, and sometimes its nice not to have to train someone or worry that they're going to do something crazy, like Sophia. Or you. No offense.″

Dennis nodded. He could understand that, especially after his own recent experience with Chris. Even the comment about him was fair, considering some of the stunts he'd pulled.

″It was a fairly routine patrol at first. We ran across some members of the ABB, but nothing beyond that. We didn't even have to arrest anyone as they weren't really doing anything. Just a regular boring night. That's when it happened...″ Dean's voice trailed off as he stared off into space.

Dennis waited patiently for Dean to continue. Finally, he did so.

″I saw this huge blast of light in the distance. I wouldn't be surprised if it was visible to half the city. At least the awake half. We busted ass getting over there to see what was up. That's when I saw her.″

Dennis almost asked if it was Carnelian, but managed to zip his lip at the last minute. He'd promised, after all.

Dean gave him a wary glance that made Dennis glad he hadn't spoken. ″Yeah, it was Carnelian. I'd read the reports, you know. I try to be diligent about things like that. To do the right thing.″ He sighed heavily. ″But those are just words on paper. They don't even begin to prepare you to deal with the real thing.″

There was a far off look in Dean's eyes as he drew upon recent memories to speak. ″She was a bright blazing light show there in front of me. It was completely at odds with the descriptions of her as clad all in gray. Carnelian's armor is blue, so bright it hurts your eyes, feels almost as if it digging into your brain. But it's her sword that is the worst. Burning red and so angry it's absolutely terrifying. You just know it wants to hurt you. And no amount of pain will assuage its rage.″

Dennis somehow kept his brows level at Dean's words. He wasn't sure how, but he did. What the hell was Dean talking about? He'd personally seen Carnelian and none of that was even remotely accurate. Had the other experienced some kind of psychotic break?

Dean was still speaking. ″We must have come in just after she'd blasted most of Empire 88's capes. From where we were, I could see that Krieg was dead. Some of their other capes looked down for the count. But Crusader and at least one other were still up and Carlos warned me against trying to help them. That they would attack me. He was probably right.″

Dennis watched as Dean shivered in reaction to some memory. His voice sounded almost mechanical as he said, ″Carnelian was charging down on Hookwolf, Stormtiger, and Cricket, who'd broken off against Lung to fight her, probably because she'd taken down their reserves. Cricket attacked her first, being closest and Carnelian just chopped her hand off as it were nothing. That sword...″

Dennis reached out and squeezed Dean's shoulder, the other boy seeming to take strength from the comforting gesture. ″She barreled right into Hookwolf next. No one should have been able to survive something like that. He had her completely enveloped in his blades, while she was still chopping away from inside of him, then he just exploded in a red blast that screamed rage. Anger beyond anything I've ever imagined. Just like that, he was dead, pieces of him scattered everywhere.″

Dennis started. Hookwolf was dead? He'd known there had been casualties, but he would never have believed that particular cape could be so easily taken down. And Krieg? The Nazi telekinetic was a real thorn in their side and such a canny fighter that Dennis would have never believed he could be taken down by a relative newbie. Suddenly realizing he'd missed more than a little while thinking, Dennis quickly focused back on Dean's words.

″-and then that damn thing came up behind Lung and punched right through his chest. I knew it wasn't over, because Lung has taken a lot worse. And by this time, Armsmaster and the others had arrived. But that's when Carnelian used that damn grenade looking thing.″

Dennis continued to listen, mentally urging Dean to go on.

″When it went off, it was _awful_. Like nothing I've ever seen before. I barely kept my dinner down when that disgusting yellow light splashed across me, clinging to me like I'd never be clean again. I can't imagine how it felt to be inside of the effects of that globe. Lung collapsed and grew deathly sick, puking his guts out. That was when Carnelian...″

Dennis wanted to scream at him to go on and finish the story. But somehow he kept his mouth buttoned up. Fortunately, after a moment, Dean continued.

″She still had her sword in her hand, that sword that had grown like some monstrous raging beast. It seemed like the perfect thing to kill Lung with, if you know what I mean. But she didn't kill him. Maybe it was the Protectorate heroes being there. Armsmaster was yelling, threatening her with arrest. Miss Militia was shouting at her to stand down. But Carnelian seemed to just ignore them all.″

Dean took a deep breath and exhaled. ″Instead of using her sword, she hammered her fist so hard into the back of Lung's head that I could feel it from where I was standing. And she triggered some kind of effect. There was this horrifying blast of red light, like solidified rage. And it drove Lung's face right into the ground. Almost killed him. I could see his life literally stutter from it before he began to recover. Not that he had a chance to get away as Armsmaster injected him with something right after that.″

Dean's voice took on distant, almost clinical air as he said, ″You know, they tried to talk to Carnelian afterward. But she just ignored them all. Miss Militia walked right up to her as if she didn't even know how dangerous she was. It wasn't until later that I found out no one else could see the effects of what Carnelian had done. They were talking about the weird effects from non-existent explosions. I was the only one who could see the colors.″

Dennis looked into Dean's eyes, which looked marginally calmer after the long explanation. He tried to communicate a question. Dean rolled his eyes and said, ″Go ahead, Dennis.″ 

″What effects are you talking about? What colors? I mean, earlier you said Carnelian was glowing. Is that what you meant? Because I have to tell you, _I_ didn't see anything like that when I met her.″

Dean shrugged, his shoulders still hunched defensively. ″Kind of. I think Carnelian's power is based on emotions in some way. It's like the things she makes are solidified feelings. Her shield and armor feel like protectiveness to me. Almost painfully so. Her sword... it was like rage made solid. Concrete. She cut Lung's arm and leg off with a piece of pure anger.″

Dennis was stunned by the explanation. ″Holy crap.″

″Yeah. Every time she used that sword, it flashed crimson, like blood. And when Lung managed to get his hands on her, she blew up in a red so bright it left afterimages on my vision for several minutes. Again, pure rage. But it was that... thing she tossed into Lung's mouth that was the worst. Imagine the worst feeling you ever had, sadness, pain, fear, complete and utter self-disgust and that only begins to describe it. Like rancid anti-life.″

Dennis froze. He remember being hit with something that made him feel exactly that way for so a brief time that he thought he'd only imagined it, _especially_ after the sickness took over. Looking over at Dean, who seemed to realize just what he was thinking, Dennis said, ″I remember. That must be what Carnelian used to take me and Chris down.″

Dean shivered in visceral horror. He demanded, ″How could you bear experiencing that? I think it might kill me if she ever used it on me. I'm serious. It was that horrifying.″

Dennis shrugged. ″It was bad, but not that bad. Mostly, it made me barf and not stop barfing for hours. It almost makes me feel better to know that even Lung tossed his cookies when Carnelian used it on him. Now maybe they'll stop making fun of me over on PHO.″

″Yeah, maybe. I don't think it's good, Dennis. I think Carnelian's a monster, as bad in her own way as Lung, or the Slaughterhouse Nine.″ He shook his head. ″You know, they want to make her a member of the Protectorate. As if someone like _her_ could ever be a hero. After hurting all those people.″

Dennis almost mentioned the rumors about Assault, but decided not to. It wouldn't help, and if Dean thought the likely reformed cape was okay, that was good enough for him. A sudden thought occurred to him. ″Were you able to read Carnelian at all? I mean, other than her gear?″

Dean shook his head. ″No. Everything around her was just a blaze of light. It was even worse after she did whatever it was that she did to her sword to make it grow. It was so bright after that that I couldn't even look at it or her anymore. It hurt too much.″

Dean sighed and tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. ″There's just one final thing. You know that weird looking vehicle that Carnelian rides?″

Dennis nodded. ″Yeah, the one that looks like something out of that movie Star Force.″

Dean corrected him. ″Star Wars. Anyway, It was the only thing of hers that didn't glow, or so I thought. Then I got a look at the end of the thing. Dennis, I swear to God, I've never seen anything like it. It's as if she took all of the emotions in the world and combined them somehow to make it. But they only glow at the rear. I don't understand any of it, but it scares the hell out of me.″

″Did you tell all of this to Piggy and Halbeard?″

Dennis knew just how stressed out Dean was when the other didn't even correct him over his use of _those_ nicknames. ″Yeah. Of course, now I've got an appointment after school tomorrow to meet a councilor. Me! I'm the epitome of emotionally stable and they want _me_ to see a councilor!″ Suddenly seeming to realize that he was shouting, Dean subsided with a muttered, ″Shit.″

″It's going to be okay, buddy. You'll see.″

There was a haunted look in Dean's eyes that seemed to rebut Dennis' words, but the other merely nodded. ″I hope so, Dennis. I really, really hope so.″

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	10. Chapter Ten: Blood and Chaos Redux

**Chapter Ten: Blood and Chaos Redux**

Taylor lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. What on Earth was wrong with her, she wondered numbly?

She should have felt completely at peace after what she'd accomplished tonight. Taylor had struck a blow for her city that few Parahumans could match, hero or villain. She'd driven back the darkness, if only for a little while, and she'd slain a monster who had preyed upon others. Her actions were both good and heroic. Weren't they?

If they _were_ , why was she laying here in the dark, completely unable to close her eyes without over and over again reliving what she'd done to Hookwolf? What she'd almost done to Lung. Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was one image. Herself, standing in the middle of the torn and blasted remnants of Hookwolf's body. Blood and chaos and death.

Taylor had fought the best that Empire 88 could muster and sent them running, many broken and maimed. She had very nearly killed Lung. Could have killed him and hadn't. She'd held back and allowed the Protectorate to take him into custody. That made her a hero, didn't it?

Slowly and steadily, shivers began to wrack her slender frame and in the darkness, Taylor stared frantically at the two Regeneration rings she wore. But they lay unreacting upon her fingers. Whatever was wrong with her wasn't physical. Maybe if she pushed these feelings away like so many before, she'd feel better.

Swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, Taylor got down on her hands and knees. Reaching under her bed, she pulled out the yellow bat with the slick, greasy feeling handle. She shied away from its sickly, bilious glow. Her stomach lurched slightly, as a moment later, that glow intensified as she poured anguish and guilt into it until the bat's glow lit her room almost brightly enough for someone to read by.

She quickly thrust the bat back under her bed, sheathing it once again into her armor. There, she thought, that should do it. Now, she would be able to sleep.

A few minutes later, the shudders returned, and this time, they were accompanied by memories. Of sitting in this exact same room and exploring her new abilities. Taylor shuddered again as she remembered what she'd promised herself that day, " _It would be a cold day in hell before she killed another human being._ _She was better than that."_

Taylor blinked back tears as she remembered how horrified she'd been when she'd created that _thing_ in the hospital and how relieved she'd felt when she'd stowed it away in the coal chute in the cellar. That day, too, she'd been absolutely sure she would never kill another person. Now, less than three months later, she'd killed at least one person, and had almost killed a multitude, only failing through sheer dumb luck.

Suddenly, Taylor got up and ran for the bathroom. She barely made it before vomiting her guts up, bile and bits of her late night snack splattering the pristine white of the toilet's bowl and slowly mixing into the clear water within. For a moment, she lay there, body half on top of the toilet's bowl, her cheek pressed against the cool porcelain, not caring about whatever germs the surface carried as her guts continued to churn.

Remembering the way she'd ripped through the rapists she'd caught in the act, and how she'd later nearly torn apart the one who'd tried to shoot her, Taylor realized that it was again only sheer dumb luck that had kept those men alive. Certainly she hadn't cared at the time whether they lived or died.

They were criminals, but did that automatically make it okay to kill them? What was happening to her that she didn't care if those she left behind were dead or alive? Taylor lay on the bathroom's tile floor, shivering and shuddering, wanting more than anything to pour out those emotions into _something_ , as she considered the question she'd just posed to herself.

Deep inside, though, she already knew the answer. After all, accompanying every escalation in violence had been such an intense rage that even thinking about it made Taylor feel weak with reaction. Rage that had only increased with every Wrath item she added. Worse, even if she were somehow protected by the blue of her armor from the Wrath of her sword and other weapons, nothing could protect her from the more than thirty Wrath rings that she now wore underneath her armor upon her fingers and toes every time she went out.

Why wear them, Taylor wondered? It wasn't as if she needed that many Wrath blasts, not when most of her items recharged within seconds when she wore them. And while the combination of so many rings on one hand had allowed her to strike hard and true against Lung, it wasn't past all consideration that it was those same rings that had made her attack the dragonish cape head on, screaming all the time like she'd gone mad.

She could have died tonight. Taylor finally gave mental voice to the one thing which no ring or sword of whatever color could protect her from. Together, Empire 88 could have overwhelmed her despite her danger sense and taken her down, likely killing her in the process. And it had only been her unrelenting attacking style that had thrown Lung off balance enough for her to first escape, then strike him down. Either battle could have gone the other way. After all, tonight, Taylor had received a wake up call as to the limitations of her armor as Lung had nearly broken through its protection.

What that would have done to the girl inside of the armor, despite her Brute rating, Taylor didn't even want to think about. Lung would have likely ripped her apart, no matter her Regeneration rings or Bracer of Might, and she would have died. Worse, what would an Endbringer like Leviathan have done to her, armor or no?

Taylor got up on unsteady legs and padded on silent feet to stand in front of the mirror. Staring at the girl in the mirror, with her too perfect, if rather pale, skin and luxurious dark curls, she wondered if she was losing herself. Carefully, she brushed her equally perfect teeth and rinsed, then splashed cold water on her face, finally patting it dry with the bath towel.

Staring anew at the girl in the mirror, Taylor could not argue that her Regenerations rings had served her well. Even her eyesight, so poor for so long, was now better than perfect, her glasses now worn only for effect, lenses long ago replaced with plain glass. Still, maybe she should consider what wearing these things she'd made with her power were doing to her. Shivering, she looked away from her image and headed back to her room.

Now more awake than ever, but at least in somewhat less turmoil than before, Taylor sat back down on her bed and stared off into space. She lost track of time and when she next came to awareness of the outside world, the sky outside her window was beginning to lighten.

Glancing at her alarm clock Taylor realized it was time to get up. Slowly, she stood up again and began to dress in her jogging clothing. But after getting dressed, she stopped momentarily by her dresser. With a sense of reluctance that showed just how necessary the act was, she slowly pulled off the Regeneration rings she wore on both of her index fingers.

Because if last night had shown Taylor nothing else, it was that at least some of the things she was making were wearing her, and not the reverse. She needed to be stronger than that. Able to do without them whenever possible. Especially to do without so much Wrath. She'd start here, now, today, and tomorrow, she'd patrol with only the Wrath she could carry outside her suit.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor ran with abandonment, her lungs desperately heaving, as sweat poured off her body, leaving her clothing wet and soggy. This morning, she hadn't managed any six minute miles.

Still, the time she had made was respectable as she loped down the Boardwalk, the gleaming surface of the sea on her left, occasional white capped breakers rolling in. Cold, salty air filled her lungs, cooling her slightly, but also seemingly making it even harder to breath.

Taylor had to stop at her usual halfway point, after barely five miles, then turn around and begin the much slower and quite a bit more painful journey back.

The odd thing was, the sensations she was feeling weren't really all that bad. She'd felt physically worse after a physical altercation with Sophia Hess. Bruised, battered, and beaten, she'd emerged unbroken from those confrontations. Taylor refused to allow a little thing like physical exercise to accomplish what her bullies had been unable to do. No, she decided as she leaped over an obstacle that might have tripped her if not for her necklace's warning, she would push on, no matter what.

After all, she was in much better shape than when she'd started, even if she wasn't wearing the rings. And if she couldn't run a series of six minute miles, under seven was certainly within her reach, even if she got quite a bit sweatier getting there. Yeah, and a lot more exhausted, although that might have been the lack of sleep as much as not wearing her Regeneration rings.

Finally, though, Taylor arrived back home to see her dad getting into his car to head out.

″Kiddo! Breakfast is on the table, just clean up when you're done. I'll see you for dinner!″

″Bye, Dad!″

Taylor waved, then headed inside for a quick shower. She stopped off for a long drink of water, feeling quite parched, then ran upstairs.

Afterward, she stared at herself in the mirror, slowly critiquing her body. As always, her skin was flawless, but Taylor couldn't help but also notice how much her hair gleamed. Hanging nearly to her waist, the long brunette curls, which had been the only source of femininity in her life for so long, now looked better than ever. Plus she was finally starting to fill out on top, even if only just a little. Taylor confirmed this by turning sideways and staring at her body's profile.

Her waist was slim and her stomach flat and sinewy. Her legs were firm and well-muscled as well, especially her calves. Staring at herself, Taylor realized that she looked like an athlete. Even to the point that when she flexed her bicep, the muscle stood up lean and hard on her otherwise slender arm. Standing there naked, she had to admit that she wasn't terrible to look at anymore, her earlier more froglike appearance long gone.

The only jarring thing was the necklace that still encircled her slim neck. That, she still couldn't remove, no matter how she tried. Then again, Taylor didn't think it was having all that much of an effect upon her. Certainly not like her rings. She shied away from the thought of how she'd so easily avoided tripping just that morning on a loose piece of curb because of the necklace's warning.

Dressing after her shower, she nearly grabbed a handful of rings off of her dresser out of sheer reflex. Staring at the glowing shapes in her hand, Taylor finally settled on just one Regeneration ring, and put the others away.

Sitting down to study, Taylor instead stared off into space. Just how long had she been casually tossing on a half dozen rings, most of them Wrath? Certainly, she'd done so for a few weeks. If the anger within them was affecting her negatively, it should come as no real surprise. That much rage made solid would likely affect anyone, she decided thoughtfully.

With a decisiveness that was slowly becoming more typical of her, Taylor promised herself that unless she was patrolling, she would avoid carrying any of her items except for one ring of Regeneration. The others, she would exile to her drawer, ready for those patrols.

Even there, unless she thought she would run into something dangerous, she'd limit herself to just one Wrath ring on each hand and foot. As fast as they regenerated, she didn't need more than that.

She would still carry her usual weapons, including her now far more powerful sword. Those she should be protected from by her armor. So they shouldn't have the same effect upon her.

Taylor also made a promise to herself that she'd pour her anger into her sword or the shorter club she carried at her waist anytime it got out of hand, patrol or no. She doubted that she'd ever get angry enough to remake the sword into something more powerful, and if the club got stronger, she was after all protected against it by her armor.

That decision made, Taylor felt far more at peace and began to study.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa watched the video she'd made of the fight that Carnelian had been involved in for what felt like the hundredth time. Nothing in it changed, however.

She still hadn't figured out exactly what was going on with the weapons that the vigilante cape was using, but she had discovered one thing. The girl was using items to give her extra abilities.

Watching her spin to avoid an attack from Rune, Lisa once again confirmed what she now knew to be true. _Knows where attack is coming from. Receives warning. Item that she wears gives precognitive abilities as related to danger._

The scene with Lung reinforced another observation. _Brute strength and durability. At least level five, no... six. Bracer on arm provides ability._

Lisa had also seen just how powerful her armor was. _Provides the equivalent of a Brute 8 in protection. Recharges quickly, but can be overwhelmed by sufficiently powerful attack. Created by $##** ._

It was that last which had kept Lisa from the breakthrough that she had been looking for, almost as if her power were on a feedback loop. She had been able to figure out that the weapon that Carnelian used was ridiculously sharp, as well as possessed of some sort of effect that detonated like those strange balls she'd tossed, even if in a smaller area of effect that seemed confined to the target only. But the effect itself, how it worked, and how the items Carnelian carried were created, those remained as much of a mystery as when she'd first watched the video.

Lisa's thoughts were interrupted by her phone's ring tone. Grimacing at the identity of her caller, she answered, ″What's up, Boss?″

″Tattletale, go ahead and release the video.″

Feeling uneasy, Lisa asked, ″You sure you want to do that?″

For a moment danger beckoned, then the voice of the mysterious man she knew only as Coil answered, ″Yes, I am sure. Don't question me again. Do you understand my instructions?″

Feeling a shiver of reaction to some kind of danger avoided, Lisa unconsciously nodded as she said, ″Yes, Boss. I'll release the video asap.″

″See that you do.″

With that, Coil hung up. Staring at the phone in her hand like it was a poisonous snake, Lisa slowly shook her head in denial. But she had no choice, really. She'd used her power enough on the man she called 'Boss' to know that the things he would do to her for not following orders were unspeakable. Far better to just do it. And not get caught.

Because as scary as Coil was, Lisa knew that if it came right down to it, she'd rather face him a hundred times, than the cape that she'd just watched dismantle so many other Parahumans, even once.

Lisa decided that whatever else happened, she needed to do a bit more shopping therapy. If not today, then tomorrow. Maybe that would make her feel better about the bind she was currently in. Or maybe not, she decided, the bitter tone of her thoughts only underscoring her need for relaxation time.

With a sigh, she pressed a key on her laptop to upload the video of Carnelian to the web.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

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 **Topic: Lung vs Empire 88  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay **

**► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

Everyone stop! While I agree that the video that was posted anonymously is pretty damning, Carnelian is still a vigilante _hero_ as far as I'm concerned.

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

 **Bagrat** I'm sorry, but that seems hopelessly naive. Carnelian killed Hookwolf. Completely slaughtered him. If she's that powerful, she could have taken him down without killing him. Look at what she did to Lung, not to mention the rest of Empire 88.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

She's crazier than a bag of cats. I for one am scared to death of that psycho.

 **User received an infraction for this post: Don't use insults when speaking of others. Keep it civil, people.**

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

 **Chrome** I'm completely aware of what she did to Empire 88 and Lung, not to mention Hookwolf. Just because she was able to take down Lung without killing him, doesn't mean she could do the same to Hookwolf. They have completely different power sets.

 **XxVoid_CowboyxX** Seriously? I don't think you should call someone a psycho who is that powerful and seems to have some kind of precognition. Plus I doubt she's crazy.

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

 ** **Bagrat**** **Look, I get that she's cleaning up the city. But (and I can't believe that I'm agreeing with** ** **XxVoid_CowboyxX**** **), Carnelian is unbeliev** ably scary. I mean, she wiped the floor with the Nazis and Lung. What's to stop her from going the rest of the way, then setting herself up as the Warlord of Brockton Bay? The Protectorate? Good luck with that.

 **► Whedonripperfan**  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

Agreed. Carnelian is literally a force of nature. And even if, as Miraclemic postulates, Empire 88 does better against her in any rematches, something I personally doubt as they're now down one of their most powerful capes, I can't see them actually beating her. She took down Lung at a level that even the Protectorate refuses to fight him at.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on March 22, 2011:

The Protectorate refuses to fight Lung because they're afraid of escalation. And I suspect that they want to continue trying to persuade him to join in Endbringer fights. Well, that's moot now, as he's going to the Birdcage any time now.

Back to Carnelian, the woman dropped off healing rings to that hospital, for God's sake. Not exactly the actions of a villain or maniac.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek) **  
**Posted on March 22, 2011:

 ** **Bagrat**** That's a good point. I take back everything I said about Carnelian being a crazy killer. I wonder if I can get that infraction dismissed?

 ** **Infraction stands. Think before you post, people!****

 **HotterThanYou** (Cape Groupie) **  
**Posted on March 22, 2011:

I think Carnelian's just great. I wonder if I can get a threesome with her and ****post edited for content.****

 ** **User received an infraction for this post: You have been warned multiple times to stay on the subject. And to avoid involving Wards in sexual fantasies.**** **Welcome to the first day of your 2** **nd** **30** **day suspension.** ** **Remember, people, they're underage!****

 **► Miraclemic** **  
**Posted on March 22, 2011:

This thread is dedicated to the battle between Empire 88 and Lung, which Carnelian interrupted. Stay on subject, everyone.

 **Bagrat** Just because she is helping some people, it doesn't make Carnelian less dangerous. I mean, were you listening when she was charging Lung screaming at the top of her voice? That does not sound like someone who is playing with a full deck. Maybe whatever her power is is messing with her mind?

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~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Emily sat at the head of the table. To her left, sat Armsmaster, while to her right, sat Miss Militia. Also present were Dauntless and Gallant. She began with, ″The reason all of you are here, today, is to discuss Carnelian.″

Dauntless shook his head and asked, ″Why am I here, Director? I wasn't even present for the battle between her and Lung. I am probably the least familiar with her.″

Armsmaster spoke before Emily could explain, irritating her immensely. Still, she took some satisfaction in knowing just how unhappy he was with the latest evidence of Carnelian's abilities. ″You're here, Dauntless, because of all of the Parahumans within Brockton Bay, we now believe that your power may most closely resemble Carnelian's.″

Emily nodded in agreement at the inquisitive look Dauntless sent her way. She could immediately tell that Gallant disagreed, despite the helmet that covered most of his face. The way he sat there, arms folded, only further reinforced it. ″Do you have something to add, Gallant?″

His reply was terse, ″No, ma'am.″

"Dauntless, we've established your powerset as a combination of a Trump/Striker. Having finally seen Carnelian's power in action, and how she was able to increase the size and likely the power of her sword, we have changed her numbers to that of a Striker 6, Trump 6. Because of the items that we now believe she has somehow imbued or changed, she also has a Brute rating of 5 and a Mover rating of 5. Carnelian also has a some form of very powerful precognition, although it isn't infallible."

"Actually, Director, there is no evidence that Carnelian's precognition _is_ fallible."

Emily sighed. "Armsmaster, why do you say that? She was clearly struck by Lung, who somehow bypassed her precognition."

"Director, after running Carnelian's fighting style through predictive software of my own design, I found that she was in fact already moving away from the blow well before it struck. Lung was simply too fast for her own more human reflexes. It does show a vulnerability to Movers and others with heightened reflexes, but not to anyone without those abilities."

"All right. Since it does appear that Carnelian's precognition has _not_ yet been proven to be fallible, if not always effective, she'll receive a Thinker rating of 5. What concerns me is what, if any other, abilities she might add to her gear in the future. Dauntless, this is where I hope you can help us."

The young man, whose helmet covered a lot of his face, shrugged. "What can I do for you, Director Piggot?"

"What are the limits of your own ability? Have you ever been stymied as to what you can create? In other words, is anything beyond your ability?"

Dauntless spoke in a neutral tone as he shook his head. "I haven't ever found something I could not create. The only limits I've found in my ability seem to lie with visualization. Anything I can visualize, I can create. That means teleportation, physical augmentation, temporal effects, precognition, the sheer number is simply too large to cover here. Of course, I can't improve complex technology. Everything I've charged, from my boots to my shield to my Arclance, started out as a simple item. I can't guarantee that Carnelian has the same limitations. That speeder, for example..."

Emily nodded, a faint smile gracing her features for the first time. "Actually, Dauntless, we believe that Carnelian has the same limitation. After all, everything she has shown us seems to be the most simple of items. She carries a sword and shield, while wearing armor. Obviously each of those items seem to be imbued with effects, ranging from armor protection to some form of invisible force attack to a simple item that flies. None appear to be mechanical or have visible means behind their effects."

As Gallant stirred restlessly, Emily corrected herself, "Rather, they lack visible effects to everyone with the exception of Gallant. He can see the effects of the items that Carnelian uses."

Dauntless turned towards the Ward. "Really? What does her sword look like when it hits?"

Gallant, his mouth a thin line, was silent a moment. Finally, he reluctantly stated, "Her sword is like this huge blazing piece of solidified rage. When it hits, it flares, and there's some kind of crimson force that exits from it that feels even angrier. It's scarier than hell, but not half as scary as Carnelian herself."

"What does she look-"

Emily interrupted Dauntless, "I don't think we need to rehash the subject of her appearance yet again, Gallant. I understand that she is literally the boogie man when it comes to your own power because of how you perceive her. However, I would like to point out that she did not kill Lung when she had the opportunity. Nor did she kill any member of Empire 88 with the exception of Hookwolf, which might have been because she was in fear of her life."

Fortunately, Gallant didn't argue, merely shrugging. Unfortunately, Armsmaster did, as he was more than a bit disappointed to have been proven wrong, seemingly taking it as if Carnelian had insulted him personally. "Director, I respectfully disagree. Carnelian shows every indication of being a borderline sociopathic personality, something highlighted by her inability to control her anger. It is possible that her power has some mental aspect that affects her own emotional state at least as much as it affects Gallant."

"I'm not going to argue this with you again, Armsmaster. Dauntless, thank you for your insight. We'll assume that you're accurate in your theory that Carnelian cannot imbue more complex structures, but can imbue anything simple that her mind can encompass. This is going to still make her potentially very dangerous in the event we have to confront her, as we will not be able guarantee accurate intelligence as to her most current powerset."

Emily looked around the room. "I know I don't need to tell you all to keep all of the information discussed here confidential so as to not create an additional strain between Carnelian and the PRT and Protectorate. Meeting's over."

Emily got up and headed out of the room, hesitating a moment as she saw Armsmaster and Gallant with their heads together. Still, whatever the two of them were cooking up was less important than writing up the latest set of reports on Carnelian for the PRT's upper echelons.

Besides, just how much trouble could the two of them get into with the constraints they were under as far as action towards Carnelian was concerned?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Danny Hebert walked from his car to his front door, whistling the entire way. He'd had another great day. The Dockworker's Association had added ten _new_ members today, two of whom had sheepishly rejoined after leaving to become minions of those ridiculous villains, Uber and Leet. They'd added those men because there was too much work for the current roster.

The steadily declining work available from them for so long seemed to have finally reversed itself. First, Danny had won that contract with the city of Brockton Bay to have his guys do all of the work on the new water main project. That involved replacing nearly sixty percent of the old metal water mains in the downtown area with much more environmentally friendly Tinker-derived plastic pipes.

He still didn't know how he'd gotten his guys that job. Danny shook his head in puzzlement every time he considered that day. All he knew was that he'd gone into that meeting feeling an energy that he'd thought lost since the closing of the ferry all those years ago and had basically steamrolled the objections of the mayor and his cronies.

Every argument they had presented against using the Dockworker's Union, Danny had found a counter-argument. And when it had come time to present his closing remarks, whatever he'd said had convinced the City Council to award them the contract, rather than one of the fat cat companies who usually reaped these sweetheart deals.

Danny grinned as he remembered the stunned looks of those men sitting around him even as he fist pumped. And that had only been the first of the triumphs he reaped. Next had been the contract to clear out, then demolish, more than two dozen derelict buildings bordering downtown. Finally, he'd convinced the City Council to begin the slow and laborious process of salvaging the ships in the Boat Graveyard.

That last one had been the cherry on top that now had the Dockworker's Association hiring as the work involved would last at least six to seven years, if not longer. For the first time in years, they had all of the work they could possibly want and more. And Danny felt a proud glow from the accomplishment.

It didn't hurt that physically, he felt amazing these days. Whether it was from a renewed sense of purpose because of his triumphs at work, or because of finally reconnecting with his daughter, Taylor, Danny didn't know. Nor did he really care. After all, when life was this good, it was best to not question things, instead merely enjoying the ride.

Walking in the front door, Danny immediately noticed the savory smell of something delicious cooking. Walking into the kitchen, he greeted his daughter, "Hey, Kiddo, how's it going today with my resident genius daughter?"

Taylor turned from where she was busily stirring something and rolled her eyes. "Dad, I'm not a genius. I'm just studying hard is all. And it's going great. I am now officially a month ahead of the class syllabuses from Winslow, and almost caught up to similar classes at Arcadia. And I now speak just a little Italian. Riesci a credere che posso dire questo in Italino? Pretty neat, huh?"

Danny felt a moment of bleakness at the mention of Winslow, and Taylor immediately stepped forward and hugged him. He wondered briefly when his shy, gawky daughter had become so insightful as to the feelings of others, but dismissed it as simply taking after her mother. After all, Annette had always been able to read his emotional state, as well as that of the others around her, like a book and respond appropriately.

Hugging Taylor, Danny suddenly realized something and commented, "I swear, I think you've grown again, Taylor. You've got to be at least five nine now. That's over two inches in just the last three months."

His daughter gave him an amused smile and shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe?"

Danny nodded decisively. "I know we just got you a few things at the Mall a few weeks back, but why don't you go down to the Boardwalk tomorrow and pick up something? And before you argue with me, yes, we can afford it. Money's not going to be an issue any time soon with all of the work coming into the Association. Plus, you're so far ahead of where you were at Winslow that I think you deserve a little reward."

Taylor gave him a doubtful look and protested, "Are you sure, Dad? I mean, the sleeves of my tops and my pants are a little short, but I can still wear them."

Danny affectionately mussed Taylor's hair as she swatted at his hand. "Of course, I'm sure, Kiddo. I'll leave you the credit card on the table tomorrow. Your budget is $500, okay? Now, what smells so good?"

His daughter shrugged. "Just something I threw together. Goulash surprise?"

Reaching for the spoon, Danny was salivating as his stomach rumbled slightly. Tasting the heavenly mess of ground beef, tomato sauce, garlic, and assorted vegetables, he couldn't help smiling yet again. Life was _good_.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor carefully put the top back onto the rack from which she'd taken it. If she were to buy it, she would only have money for three more items in the same price range. She'd forgotten just how expensive things on the Boardwalk could be.

A perky, amused voice behind her commented, "You know, there's a kick ass rack of clothes on the other side of the store that are on clearance."

Taylor spun around to identify the speaker and immediately saw a girl maybe a year or two older than her with long, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. She was cute in that girl next door way, with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a mischievous look in her green eyes. The blonde was a couple of inches shorter than Taylor, but already had a curvier figure, although her bottom might end up being a bit wide by the time she was in her thirties.

The blonde's aura was full of oranges and yellows, as well as blues and silvers. There was also a smattering of pinks and grays. All of the colors were bright and strong except for just a bit of a green tone that spoke of guilt. Taylor felt herself relax just a little as she realized this was likely someone she could trust.

The blonde's mischievous look turned amused as if she knew exactly what Taylor was thinking. In that same perky tone, she said, "I'm Lisa, by the way. What's your name?"

"Uh, Taylor. That's me. Err..."

Lisa, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, hooked Taylor's right arm with her left and pulled her in the direction of the clearance rack she'd mentioned earlier. Bemused, the taller girl allowed herself to be led without comment. Finally, standing in front of the aforementioned rack, Lisa pulled out a top and held it up to Taylor's torso critically. She immediately put it back and grabbed another. With a quick glance at the tag, she commanded, "Go try this on. It will look darling on you."

Suddenly feeling a bit mulish, Taylor balked. "Uh... I don't... look, why are you being so nice to me?"

The blonde gave her an owlish look. "Nice? I'd have gone with pushy. Look, I'm bored, okay? You can only shop so long alone before you want to take a sharp implement and give yourself a lobotomy.″ She gestured at the daunting pile of shopping bags next to the sales counter that must belong to her. ″But with a girlfriend... now, that's another story. So, please, take pity on me and let me help you pick stuff out. I mean, I can tell you're on a budget. But that top's ninety percent off. So instead of a hundred and ten dollars..."

Taylor completed Lisa's sentence, "It's only eleven. Okay, I'll try it on. But I'm picky about what I wear, okay?"

Giving her current wardrobe, which consisted of slightly too short jeans and a blue t-shirt under a gray hoodie, a critical look, Lisa waved dismissively. "Of course you are. Now go. Try it on."

A few minutes later, Taylor was looking into the dressing room's mirror and had to admit that she did look really good in the top Lisa had picked out. The teal and blue colors suited her skin tone and she loved the soft silky texture of the material against her skin. Even better, it fit her perfectly.

Just as she decided that she would get it, a pair of jeans were tossed over the top of the stall's door, followed by another pair in a different color and two more tops. Lisa's cheerful voice commanded, "Try these on as well. I guessed at your size on the jeans, but they should fit. I also think you'll like these two tops as well and they'll definitely look great on you."

Taylor almost wailed, "Look, Lisa, you can't keep tossing clothes in here for me to try. The sign on the door says only two outfits at a time can be taken in here."

"Bah. They know me here. I spend a lot of money in this store and let's just say the rules don't apply to me. Now hurry up so I can see how those look on you."

The next few minutes was spent trying on clothes. Taylor barely managed to pull on the jeans, which despite their correct length, were more than skin tight. But finally she got them zipped up and walked out into the bigger dressing room outside her stall. She stopped in front of the large mirror there to study her reflection.

Lisa, who had been sitting on a bench running down one side of the room with even more clothes next to her, stood up. She walked over to stand next to Taylor and looking at her image in the mirror, commented, "I knew it. You do look great."

Taylor shook her head. She could barely breath in the jeans, they were so tight. "They're too tight. Even as skinny as I am, I can barely zip them up. I need a size bigger."

"No, you don't. Trust me. As soon as you wear them some, they'll fit you even better. Plus, they're preshrunk so you don't have to worry about that." Lisa put her finger on her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes in the mirror met Taylor's. "You are so lucky. Do you know how much I envy you having such a tall, slender figure?"

"Yeah, right. I have the chest of a twelve-year-old boy." Taylor felt a little embarrassed about talking about her boobs, or rather, lack thereof, but what was the point of being in denial? Some things couldn't be helped with a Regeneration ring, she thought morosely. Worse, as small as her chest currently was, it was still bigger than it had been just a few weeks ago.

Lisa shrugged. "So? Boobs will probably come later. And they're no substitute for being tall and long-legged. Me? I'm already having to be careful with my diet so I don't look fat in my... clothes. You, on the other hand, are probably always going to be tall, slim, and leggy. Worse, you can probably eat whatever you want."

Taylor shrugged this time. The blonde girl was right about that, after all. Lisa was still ranting though.

"And your skin! You have the most perfect skin I have seen on someone not in a fashion magazine. If I had skin like that, I would happily give Satan the down payment of one soul, slightly soiled. I'd..."

Taylor heard the odd tone in the other girl's voice and glance at Lisa in the mirror. The blonde's eyes were glued to her necklace, which was just visible where her top had slipped down a little bit, exposing the slick gray material. Turning to look at the blonde directly, she saw Lisa's aura had turned predominantly a pale blue, the other colors now looking washed out, as fear took her over. Taylor wasn't even remotely shocked by the familiar sensation of rage filling her as she realized that the blonde had somehow recognized her.

Lisa's eyes moved from the image of Taylor's necklace in the mirror to her finger, where her gray ring sat, before finally heading upwards to meet the eyes of the actual girl standing next to her. Seeming to register the look in the taller girl's eyes, she shuddered and took a step back. Her voice almost stuttered as she said, "I-I won't say anything, I promise."

Taylor closed the distance to the other and grabbed Lisa's arm, uncaring of the other's flinch. She hissed, "Who the fuck are you? You're a Parahuman, aren't you? Hero or Villain?"

She wondered how she could have so misread the other girl as Lisa's eyes refused to meet her own. The blonde muttered, "It's not that simple."

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep her anger contained, Taylor grated, "It's always that simple. Either you're a parasite trying to suck the life out of this city or you're part of the solution. Which. Are. You?"

Finally meeting Taylor's gaze directly, Lisa took a deep breath and stated, "I'm a Villain."

A sense of despair filled Taylor as she realized that the first new friend she'd made in more than a year and a half was a Parahuman Villain. Worse, she might even be in danger right now from the other girl, although Lisa appeared to be far more scared of her than she was of Lisa. For just a moment, as her emotions spiked, Taylor almost pushed them away from herself.

But the only target was Lisa, and Taylor had no idea what pushing something into a person would do to them, so somehow she gained control of herself. Shivering in reaction, she stared down at the shorter blonde, whose eyes had grown progressively larger the more time she spent silent. A moment later, Lisa spoke, her tone bleak and emotionless, despite the fear that Taylor could still see overwhelming her aura, "Look, I'm only a Villain because someone made me an offer that I could not turn down. You know what I mean?"

Taylor shook her head, confusion eating away at the anger still filling her. "No, I don't know what you mean. What offer?"

She could see the truth in the blonde's words as Lisa said, "Two big guys with guns, a different guy on the phone, who said that he was hiring me. If I'd said no, they would have killed me."

"You could have gone to the PRT." Taylor's words were neutral but her tone was accusing. After all, the blonde could have found help if she had just tried.

Lisa shook her head, despair visible on her face. "He's got an in at the PRT. I wouldn't last a week, if that. Taylor, he _knows_ stuff. Things that he shouldn't know. Couldn't know. But somehow he does. He uses that knowledge to less than subtly let me know that if I try to run, or do anything less than my best for him, my life isn't worth a snowball's chance in Hell."

Taylor stood there silently, still holding the blonde's arm in a vise-like grip. Well, as vise-like as she could without her bracer. Could she trust the other girl? Lisa was telling the truth, that was something Taylor could easily read. Figuring out what happened to someone's aura when they lied was one of the first things she'd learned to read. Watching Sophia, Emma, and Madison talk to teachers, fellow students, and each other had been an eye opener. They'd never told the truth. About anything. To anyone.

But Lisa was telling the truth. So she hadn't gone into it willingly. That was a point in her favor. After all, if someone figured out who Taylor was and tried to use her dad to force her to work for them, she wasn't absolutely sure what she'd do. Still, the mere thought of it caused a dark, gaping chasm to appear in her mind, something so vast and deep that Taylor wasn't sure she would ever emerge from it if she had to descend into its depths. Did that make her any better than the girl who had merely tried to find a way to survive?

Suddenly tired of the thought of how just frightened she was making the other girl, Taylor released Lisa's arm and walked over and sat heavily on the bench opposite the mirror. Dully, she said, "Go on. Get out."

Taylor sat there, head bowed, shivering for a moment, when someone sat next to her, their thigh touching her own. Then an arm slowly and hesitantly went around her shoulders. A moment later, Lisa cautiously drew her into a one-armed hug. She could just see the other girl's aura and the shade of pink that was slowly taking over the pale blue was one that Taylor had learned to associate with compassion. Then she turned her head up to meet Lisa's eyes.

The blonde's aura flared with fear, confusion, and a sudden burst of courage, as she leaned closer and whispered, "Taylor, my name is Lisa Wilbourn. My cape name is Tattletale. I'm a member of the Villain group called the Undersiders because a man named Coil forced me to be. And I think that you may be my last chance to get out from under his thumb. Will you help me?"

The fear in the blonde's aura was fading almost ridiculously fast as Lisa met Taylor's astonished gaze with a knowing grin that was still only a shadow of her earlier one.

Taylor stared at the other girl. She accused, ″Are you crazy? Why would I help you? Why would you even think I would help you? Is that your power or something? To figure out someone's actions?″

Lisa shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a gambler by nature. And I'm betting on you."

The blonde leaned a little closer and met Taylor's accusing stare directly. ″Plus, now that I've met you, I know you aren't that scary. That you're not even a little crazy. And that you're soft-hearted enough for me to ask you for help and to maybe get it. So what do you say, Taylor, want to help save me from the bad guys?″

Lisa's grin had taken on a vulpine quality as Taylor sat there next to her just shaking her head helplessly.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"Armsmaster? What did you want to see me about?" Dean asked, aware of a feeling of weariness that seemed to be dragging him down. The last few days had been difficult ones to say the least. Now the leader of the Protectorate ENE wanted to talk to him, likely about something to do with Carnelian.

In his typically unemotional tone, one that Dean could safely say was backed up by his own read of the man's emotions, Armsmaster said, "I want your help analyzing a piece of Carnelian's gear that was recovered from the scene of her fight with Lung."

"A piece of gear... you mean the orb that she threw into Lung's mouth?" Dean felt his stomach lurch as he remembered the sickly yellow glow of the thing bursting out from within Lung and enveloping the dragonish cape. And the effects it had had upon the other.

Armsmaster nodded briskly. "Yes, we were able to remove it from Lung before he shrank back to human size. Otherwise, it would have required surgery to remove. I've had it in containment within my laboratory ever since."

Dean couldn't believe he was even considering having anything to do with investigating something belonging to the vigilante cape. Not wanting anyone else to hear him, he whispered, "What do you want me to do?"

"Just be present while I analyze the device and provide me with your observations afterward. I can assure you that it will be completely safe."

Dean wanted to ask the other exactly how he could make that guarantee when he didn't have the slightest idea how Carnelian's gear worked. Instead, he merely nodded his head. "All right. I'll help you, sir. When do you want to do this?"

Armsmaster nodded back, his aura reflecting his satisfaction. "No time like the present. The orb in question is in my lab at the Protectorate HQ. I'll give you a ride there and make sure someone gives you a ride back here afterward so that you can make tonight's patrol. Is that satisfactory?"

Dean nodded, trying to ignore the sense of doom filling his stomach. "Yes, sir, that's fine. I'm ready when you are."

Armsmaster didn't reply but took off at a fast walk. Assuming he expected to be followed, Dean did exactly that. As he paced behind the other down the long hallways towards the elevators, he tried to ignore the sinking feeling inside of him. Remembering how the battle the other night had gone, Dean decided that there was nothing good that could come out of touching something that belonged to that woman. But maybe, just maybe, something he did tonight could help take her down.

Still, if that was the case, why was he so afraid?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	11. Chapter Eleven: Like St George

**Chapter Eleven: Like St George...**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa kept sneaking glances at the other girl walking next to her, trying to figure her out. Her power, however, kept showing her things such as: _shows heightened situational awareness, likely due to torc worn. Has immense regenerative abilities centered upon ring on right forefinger. Emotions tightly held, no evidence of anger or other intense emotions beyond norm for situation. Health near apex of human potential. Eyes-_

Lisa cut off her power, not wanting to deal with yet another deluge of useless or trivial information. Because what her power was not telling her was by far the most important thing. Like how this girl and the one Lisa had watched just a few nights ago could be the same person.

The Taylor that Lisa had met today showed an even-tempered nature at complete odds to her Parahuman identity. Could the other night all have been but a show? A put on to try to create a persona that didn't really exist? Thinking back to what she'd seen that night, Lisa shuddered slightly. She certainly didn't think so. That night, Carnelian had been completely out of control and more dangerously unstable than any person she had ever seen before.

Today, Taylor hadn't even really lost her temper all that much, even when she believed that Lisa might have deliberately made up to her in order to out her. Instead, the girl had shown flashes of kindness, charm, and an old-fashioned decency that coupled with her wry self-deprecation, made her a very likable person. What she wasn't was a dangerous psychotic cape who fought monsters without fear, hurling herself into the mouth of the beasts.

Lisa's own fear had been nearly crippling upon discovering that the girl who she'd been so casually teasing into buying clothes that she thought would look good on the other was actually the cape about whom she'd recently posted a video on TubeView, linking it back to the PHO forums. For just a moment, she had wondered if this was some kind of karmic payback for working for Coil. She'd also wondered if she were going to live past the next couple of minutes.

But she hadn't died. Or even been truly threatened. Now, Lisa was alive and well and walking down the boardwalk burdened with a host of shopping bags, headed to a place where the two of them could have a private talk.

It wasn't something she was really looking forward to. Despite what she said and meant earlier about Carnelian being her last chance to get out from under Coil's thumb, Lisa had more awareness of the dangers involved than most people. Her Thinker ability, some form of super-intuition, made it easy for her to draw conclusions about potential futures. None of the ones she'd seen recently were pleasant.

In her best case scenario, she'd find herself working with Taylor, or rather Carnelian, as her alter ego Tattletale. Considering the furor that the vigilante cape was raising in Brockton Bay and likely beyond, that likely held risks higher than her current situation, even if not so grim an ultimate future.

In her worst case scenario, she thought it highly likely that the fate that her power had warned her of more than once would befall her, that of a drugged up thrall to the snake-themed villain, forced to provide answers or risk being cut off from the very drugs she'd been forcibly addicted to. It was the one fate that Lisa actually thought she'd prefer to die, rather than suffer, because neither she, nor her power, could see an end to it were it to befall her.

So Lisa would work towards making the best case scenario happen. After all, once she was helping Taylor, it was inevitable that the vigilante's standing with the PRT and the public would only increase. Lisa's power was good at figuring out things like that. Of finding paths that would take one in a direction that brought success.

Until then, she would do whatever she needed to in order to survive.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor walked along, her head down, and her thoughts racing. She was aware of the burden of the bags she carried, both hers and Lisa's, but it was a distant awareness, made far less urgent by her Regeneration Ring and its ability to constantly remove toxins that tried to build up in her muscles.

Actually, Lisa was the current topic of most of those racing thoughts. Their meeting today. Their shopping together. Lisa's subsequent revelation regarding Taylor's secret identity and her own as a costumed villain. Take your pick as to what concerned her the most.

Taylor found it almost amusing that somehow the other girl had managed to talk her into buying several outfits before they'd left to find a place to talk. Almost, because Lisa's ability to argue and persuade others to her will was of some concern to her, even if she rather suspected that it had nothing to do with a Master or Stranger power, but rather an ability to talk so fast and confidently that it left other people confused and off balance.

Regardless of which it was, Taylor was now the owner of a dozen pairs of jeans and an equal number of tops, all had for the low low price of only $397.58, including tax. It was quite the haul and Lisa had even persuaded the salesgirl to throw in a pair of designer flats and a couple of matching belts for free.

It was a telling move and one that Taylor would keep in mind for the future. After all, she really wasn't all that up on the Undersiders. Her research into capes prior to her outing Sophia Hess as Shadow Stalker hadn't really yielded much information on the group, which was primarily because there wasn't much information to be had.

All PHO knew about the Undersiders was that they were considered petty crooks and escape artists, who were improbably successful. What they were not were violent thugs like the ABB, vicious racists like Empire 88, or sick disgusting druggies like the Merchants. Taylor knew that the members were Grue, Tattletale, Regent, and Hellhound. While Hellhound's power was to control dogs she grew to monstrous sizes, and Grue's was some form of darkness generation, the rest were complete mysteries.

Of course, she could now pencil in Thinker for Lisa, or rather Tattletale, as the other cape's ability to draw conclusions from minimal evidence was frightening. Of Regent, Taylor still had no idea.

Regardless, she could maybe buy into the idea that they weren't such bad guys, although it went against her instincts to do so. After all, Taylor had launched her campaign against the gangs with the platform that all gangs were bad and needed to be eliminated from Brockton Bay. Wryly, she remembered thinking of them as parasites.

Which they were, even those as relatively benign as the Undersiders. Still, if she could help Lisa, then there would be one less member of a gang out there preying upon the city. Or better yet, helping to deal with those who truly were preying upon the city. Turning such a negative into a positive was surely the act of a hero.

Taylor's thoughts were interrupted by Lisa saying, "How about this spot?"

Looking around, Taylor noted that the place they'd stopped was in one of the smaller parks a few block away from the Boardwalk in the direction of the her own neighborhood. That it appeared to be yet another glimpse into just how versatile Lisa's power was, she took as a warning. Still, she nodded her agreement as the spot's suitability.

The two of them placed their bags on the ground and took seats facing one another at one of the many picnic tables randomly scattered around. This one was fully exposed to the sun, which helped knock off some of the late March chill from the air.

Taylor decided to start first. "What did you mean when you said that I was your last chance to get out from under Coil's thumb? Why not just pick a good time and leave?"

Across from her, Lisa shook her head. "I tried that. He had guys waiting for me. Somehow, he knew what I was going to do. I don't know how. But I knew better than to try again."

Taylor frowned. "Some kind of precognition?" she wondered aloud.

The blonde shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure that Coil's not a precog, at least not like any kind that I've ever heard of. I don't know what his power is, but he never loses. Even when he uses it on the Undersiders' behalf, things come out better than they would have if he had not. I mean, he once demonstrated this coin flipping thing and it came out tails ten times in a row."

Taylor suddenly realized something. "So he's going to know that you talked to me. That you're trying to recruit me to help you defeat him."

Across from her, the blonde suddenly shivered, as if someone had walked over her grave. Worried green eyes met Taylor's own brown as Lisa nodded. "Yes, he probably will. If not today, then really soon. Fuck! I'm scared to go home."

Taylor shook her head regretfully. "Sorry, but I'm not going to invite you to stay over at my house. Although you probably already know where I live, don't you?"

Looking chagrined, Lisa nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

"Is there somewhere else you can stay other than your lair?"

The blonde's eyes widened in disbelief. "My lair? I was talking about my apartment. I don't usually stay over at the Undersiders' HQ, but I do keep some things there. A couple of the others live there, but not me."

Taylor felt the familiar blush of embarrassment color her face. "Sorry about that. I guess I don't really know how being a villain works."

Candidly, Lisa said, "Taylor, villains are people too. We shop and eat out and watch movies just like any other person. Well, I can't speak for Lung, but that's what the Undersiders do."

In a slow and deliberate tone, Taylor asked, "Lisa, where is Coil's headquarters located?"

There was a momentary look of dread on the blonde's face as she asked, "Why do you ask?"

This time it was Taylor's turn to raise a brow, drawing out a sudden reddening to the other's cheeks. Lisa muttered, "Look, if I tell you, and you blow it, Coil's definitely going to know. He'll _know_ it was me. Shit."

Taylor shrugged. "It's up to you. You want my help. But I can't babysit you every day. I have things of my own to take care of. But I will deal with Coil. In return..."

"In return, what?"

"I'll expect you to stop being a villain. Maybe join the Wards... scratch that. Stay the hell away from those assholes. You can join me, help me defeat the gangs here in Brockton Bay." As Taylor said the last part, her voice had grown contemplative.

There was a complete lack of surprise on Lisa's face, almost as if she'd been expecting the offer. Considering her power, it was a distinct possibility that she had. Still, regardless of which was true, the blonde played it cool. "If I were to join you, I'd want some things made clear from the beginning."

Taylor's eyes narrowed as she instinctively suppressed a surge of irritation. "What things?"

The slightest widening of the other girl's eyes showed that she was not feeling nearly as cool as she might want to appear. "I won't go after my old teammates. I won't fight the gangs directly. My power is obviously not a physical one. And I need to make some form of a living from what we do."

Skeptically, Taylor asked, "Is that it?"

"Yeah, mostly. I also don't want to fight the PRT directly. If that's the direction you plan to head in, I won't join you as I don't see that much of a difference between what I'm doing now and how that would play out."

Taylor shrugged. "I don't plan to oppose the PRT."

Lisa gave her a look of disbelief. "You've already fought a couple of Wards. You're lucky that they let you go after what happened with Lung."

Taylor opened her mouth to say that luck had nothing to do with it, when Lisa continued, "I know you think you can take anyone. Maybe you can take on the entire local Protectorate like Lung could. But what if they bring in the Triumvirate? Can you take on Alexandria, Legend, and Eidolon?"

Could she? Taylor couldn't help remembering the things that lay within the coal chute in the basement of her house. What would such items of Malice do to a cape even as powerful as Eidolon? Kill him? Worse? Across from her Lisa's eyes got wider and wider as if she could read Taylor's thoughts. Shakily, the blonde muttered, "I don't want to know. Jesus Christ! I-"

 **Boom!**

 **Boom!**

 **Boom!**

 **Boom!**

The scattered sounds of explosions occurring all around the city of Brockton Bay came to the ears of the two girls. In the distance, pillars of black and gray smoke began to rise. Then there was another series of closer blasts.

 **Boom!**

 **Boom!**

 **Boom!**

 **BOOM!**

The ground beneath their feet shook, as one of the explosions was close enough for them to feel, almost tossing them from their seats. Abandoning their bags of clothes, both girls raced across the park to the other side, only to be confronted by a horrific sight.

A building that housed a preschool stood shattered, half of its interior open to the cold windy day. Fires were beginning to gain hold in the exposed woodwork. Bodies both large and small were scattered across its ripped open interior.

Horrified, Taylor shouted, "What the hell is happening!?"

Lisa grabbed her arm, pulling the taller girl to face her. She spoke urgently, "It's Bakuda! She's the ABB's Tinker, specializing in bombs. The crazy bitch is probably creating a distraction so that Oni Lee can help Lung to escape."

Taylor felt a strange feeling of almost lassitude take her over. Around her, the world seemed painted in hues of crimson and red. Staring down at the ghostly face of the girl in front of her, from which all color seemed to have been leeched, she asked, "Where is Bakuda?"

It took a moment for words of the terrified girl to register with Carnelian. Then she slowly nodded her understanding of the other's need to get on her computer to find out the information. Calling her Flight Stick with its attached uniform and gear to her side, Carnelian rapidly strode forward towards the devastation of the building before her. Now was the time to save lives. After all, there would be time for vengeance upon those who had wrought this later. Of that, she was absolutely certain.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa stared at the tall slim figure running towards the broken and burning building, aware of a fear so intense it stole the very breath from her lungs, leaving her shaken and shivering in reaction.

What she'd seen before, in the dressing room, had been nothing but an mirage, made up of her own fears and beliefs. A mirage, that when compared to the reality of what Carnelian truly was, was like comparing a puddle to an ocean.

The reality of staring into the eyes of a someone driven utterly mad with rage to the point that nothing frightened or intimidated them was truly daunting. Worse, her power had filled in the details of exactly how the smallest thing would push Taylor into an act of absolute violence. And even if that violence was momentarily curtailed, its inevitability was nothing less than certain.

Lisa had never considered herself to be a coward. Nor had she thought herself particularly brave. When on a job, she did what she needed to. She didn't panic and kept a cool head when stressful things happened, which was a plus for any Parahuman.

But facing Taylor Hebert, when she'd assumed the guise of Carnelian with absolutely no warning, had almost undone her. It had been a near thing, but somehow Lisa hadn't run from the other. Had even managed to keep her cool enough to explain several times that she needed her laptop if she was to find Bakuda.

Pulling out her smart phone, Lisa dialed a number. She chanted, "Pick up, pick up, pick up." as the phone rang.

Finally, after five or so rings, the call was answered. "Brian here. Lisa, what do you need? Are you aware that someone is blowing up half of the city?"

Trying to keep her voice calm, Lisa said, "Brian, I need you to listen carefully. I need you to bring me my laptop. The one on that I use to analyze Parahuman trends with. I need you to bring it to me at the park on the corner of Clifton and Webb. I need you to do this as fast as you humanly can. Can you do that for me?"

It was a credit to the leader of the Undersiders that he didn't ask questions. Instead, he merely said, "I'll have it to you within the next few minutes. When I get there, though, you're going to need to explain some things."

"I understand."

With that, Lisa hung up, staring at the still burning shell of the building. Taylor had found at least a half dozen people to rescue so far, most of them children. She seemed to find them unerringly, despite the debris covering so many. Fortunately, others were also joining in to help with search and rescue. But far too many of the forms being brought out were the small and still, clearly belonging to children who had died in the blast.

What the fuck was wrong with Bakuda, she wondered, that she would attack a school full of young children like that? It would result in the issuance of a kill order, of that Lisa was quite certain. But apparently the ABB Tinker just didn't care what happened to her, or of the consequences of her actions.

Of course, those were the scariest capes of all, she thought. Those capes who had lost what little connection to humanity they'd once had and acted and reacted as if the people around them were no more than cardboard cut outs.

At that moment, Lisa caught a glimpse of Taylor kneeling over a small form of a child. A moment later, the child, a little girl as it turned out, rose stumbling to her feet, crying out in fear. Then Taylor did the same thing to another. And another still.

Even as the other rescuers' actions slowly stilled around her, Taylor continued to act. Lisa knew that all of those people could see Taylor's face, would be able to identify her later. Oh fuck, she thought, Taylor, why couldn't you have a waited until you had some form of anonymity to start using powers?

Then there was a whistling crack in the air and a strange object dropped out of the sky next to the tall slender girl. She took only a moment to pull on some sort of costume that she removed from the device's seat, before she went back to healing people. Around her, the other rescuers had slowly resumed their work, although there were several curious and fearful glances towards the monotone cape.

Well, that tears it, Lisa thought. If there had been the slightest doubt in the minds of even one person, that doubt had just been dispelled. Her video had, after all, made its way to the evening news, even to the national news, as Carnelian's notoriety grew. There wasn't an ice cube's chance in hell that even one person there didn't now know that the Parahuman known as Carnelian was a skinny, bespectacled string bean of a teenage girl with long, curly brown hair.

Worse, Coil would know, too. He'd find out what had happened here and subsequently locate Taylor in her civilian identity. Then he would find a way to pressure her to join him. Or maybe kill her. Neither was a good result for herself, Lisa thought, gnawing on her lower lip.

Then there was a screeching sound of brakes behind her and she spun around to see Brian running towards her, carrying her laptop. Grabbing it from him, Lisa immediately began to type in a specific series of search parameters. Using her power, she was able analyze the pattern of explosions, as well as what she already knew about Bakuda, to find a four possible locations where the ABB Tinker might have set up shop.

Next to her, Brian had been staring at the figure healing people. He finally spoke, "Fuck, Lisa, what the hell is going on here? That's Carnelian. What the fuck happened here?"

Even as Lisa started writing down the locations on a scrap of paper, she explained, "Bakuda blew up a preschool. There are dozens of children dead, as well as several teachers. Carnelian is helping with finding people and healing them. I'm trying to find out where Bakuda is so that I can tell Carnelian her location."

Brian looked nauseous as he glanced over at the broken building. Then a look of determination came over his features and he said, "I'm going to see if I can help with search and rescue. Find that bitch Bakuda. The least she deserves is a meeting with Carnelian."

With that, he strode off. Seconds later, Carnelian rode her speeder bike over to Lisa and slammed to a jarring stop right next to her. She demanded, "Give me the location."

Somehow, Lisa kept her fingers from trembling as she handed over the list of addresses to the costumed vigilante. She said, "I was only able to narrow it down to four possible locations. Taylor, the fifth location is for Coil's base. After what you did out there, he's going to know about you and be able to find you."

"So be it." Taylor started to turn to race away, then stopped. Quickly, she pulled something from her left hand and tossed it over to Lisa who snatched it from the air. "Use that to heal people. Don't heal them completely or it'll be all gone. Do it just enough that they don't die. Understand?"

Lisa found her head bobbing up and down in agreement, not daring to disagree. "Yes. I'll do exactly that."

Then, without another word, Carnelian was gone. Lisa stared after her a moment, then turned back towards the school. She ran to the line of bodies that were lying on the ground, trying to determine if any of them were still alive. Finding signs of life in one of them, Lisa pressed the ring against that person's neck just long enough that the worst of their injuries were healed. Once her power confirmed that, she moved on.

Then she continued to move down the line, managing to heal one more person, this one a child. Then a final one, who she managed to bring almost to the point of stability before the charge in the object she held ran out. After that, all she could do was wait.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

What does it say about the measure of man, or a woman, that they place vengeance ahead of helping people, Taylor wondered, even as she raced toward the first of the four addresses that Lisa had handed to her? All she'd done at the end was to leave Lisa one of her two Regeneration Rings, with its finite healing charge, to try to keep people, to keep children, alive, while she headed off to deal with the source of the blasts.

Was she was a monster, Taylor wondered, even as she flew around corners and down streets, past more evidence of devastation? Because if she wasn't, why wasn't she helping these people? Spying a cluster of broken bodies near a popular midtown restaurant, Taylor cursed, but didn't stop.

After all, the cause of all of this still out there. Bakuda. The mad ABB bomber was still perfectly capable of killing yet more people. And the one thing that Taylor believed above all else was that the PRT and Protectorate were not capable of handling her.

They lacked the sheer ruthlessness and pragmatism necessary to deal with someone like Bakuda. They believed in capturing capes. In law and order and the use of courts to determine the fates of criminals. But right at that moment, Taylor knew better. She'd known from the moment that she'd pulled the first fragile and delicate body out of the rubble, that Bakuda had to die. The scales of justice could not be balanced any other way.

Taylor almost laughed at her own naiveté as she came to that conclusion so soon after her own teary pledge to not kill anyone else. Because she'd felt so sick and grief-stricken at even the death of a monster like Hookwolf. She also knew that it was far too likely she'd also killed the Nazi Parahuman known as Krieg as well. He hadn't been seen since that night either. Still, those two deaths were as nothing compared to what Bakuda has wrought that day.

So she would end the Tinker. Taylor would hammer her aside with Wrath and destroy her utterly. Rend her from this world. Because to not do so, would make pointless the blood and lives spilled out within the wreckage of the building she'd just left. Those children's lives had counted. And their deaths would count as well. So swore Taylor Hebert.

Reaching the first of the addresses given to her by Lisa, Taylor landed abruptly. She hammered a hand filled with Wrath against the door of the small factory building standing alone in one of the worst parts of town. The metal door exploded inward, pieces of it blowing through the back wall of the building, tearing through the rusty tin there.

Stepping inside, Taylor found nothing. There were no signs of life. Merely of a hasty departure made by several people, but no one currently inhabited the still shell surrounding her. Staring around at the piles of white poison on the various tables in the room, she felt a darkness descend over her vision.

When it lifted, the building was collapsing in on itself and Taylor was mounting her Flight Stick and sheathing her Sword of Wrath. With alacrity, she made her way to the second address written on the paper.

At that address, there were signs of life. People on the ground surrounding what had used to be a small service station. Now it was a gang hang out and well guarded by over a dozen ABB soldiers.

When Taylor appeared, she was greeted by the sharp cracks of handguns and the throatier barks of rifles. There were also the loud booms of shotguns as well as a couple of staccato bursts from some automatic weapons. She ignored all of the impacts from the various rounds, landing in the middle of the mass of gang bangers close to the front door of the station.

When several of them rushed towards her to engage her in hand to hand, Taylor grinned savagely. The merest effort of will caused one of the Regurgitation Grenades at her belt to erupt, sending her attackers in a ring around her dropping to their hands and knees, vomiting copiously. Another flex of will caused a Wrath Grenade to blow the refuse from her path, sending them tumbling away, broken and battered.

This time Taylor wasted no time and just hammered her way through the door, using both her own augmented strength and a sudden burst of Wrath to facilitate her entry. Screams rose from within the room in front of her, as well as another fusillade of gunfire.

That she quieted with another Regurgitation grenade, again not even bothering to remove it from her waist. As most of the men and women within the room collapsed to the floor, their stomachs doing their best to turn inside out, Taylor made her way over to the far side of the room where a handful of ABB members had just escaped the effects. There, she grabbed a long-haired Asian teen by the shoulder, his aura full of streaks of black and sickly yellows, and demanded, "Where is Bakuda?"

Her only answer was a sneer followed by a burst of saliva to the face of her helm, which ran frictionlessly from her armor. Squeezing savagely, she felt the bones in the teen's shoulder first flex, then shatter beneath her fingers. The teen's dark aura immediately faded to pale blues and yellows as his agonized screams galvanized the others nearby, who attempted to flee through the door through which Taylor had entered.

Throwing his body like a frisbee, Taylor bowled over the four other young men. One by one, she ruthlessly interrogated them. Unlike the first boy, these young men were made of more pliable stuff. But they did not know where Bakuda was. Or so their auras confirmed.

Still, their broken bones and shattered joints might lead a disinterested observer to believe that they'd managed to hold out and needed to be tortured. As she rose from the last, a sudden shout from behind her made her turn.

"Stand down, Carnelian! You are to cease and desist all activities immediately!"

It was Armsmaster, backed up by Miss Militia. Both looked horrified by the carnage she'd wrought, their auras streaked with dismal grays and greens. Their stares crucified her for the sluggishly vomiting gang members interspersed with the broken and shattered bodies of the men she'd interrogated.

It was Miss Militia who spoke next, "Carnelian, what have you done? You can't just take the law into your own hands. That's what the courts are for-"

Taylor stood there defiant as her voice slowly rose from level of a conversation to a shout, "Tell that to the children of Mt Helen's Preschool. Tell that to their grieving parents who will never hold their children in their arms again except to bury them. Tell them, that they must wait for the rule of law to save their children! To avenge their dead!"

Armsmaster's only visible reaction was in the flare of his aura, but his voice held repugnance as he asked, "It was a school that you saw hit? I heard over the coms that at least one school was struck, but I didn't know it was a preschool." Then he seemed to try to shrug off the momentary weakness of humanity, though his aura gave away the lie. "Still, you can't attack these people like this, using deadly force on them for no other reason than that they belong to the ABB."

"Can't I? Your auras give lie to your words. You want to join me in this crusade, but fear where it will lead. The rule of law has its place, but sometimes only fire can cleanse a city. These gangs only recognize the power of might, of cruelty and darkness. So be it. I will show them might and cruelty and fire on a scale that will burn down their hiding places and expose what they are to the light of day."

With that, Taylor strode for the exit, effortlessly avoiding the halfhearted attempt by Miss Militia to take her arm in her grasp. Once more astride her Flight Stick, she started to fly off. Then, hanging there in mid air ten feet above the front of the abandoned station, she rose upright in her stirrups and shouted, "Hear me, members of the ABB! For too long have you terrorized the inhabitants of this city, backed up and shielded by your monsters, your Lung, your Oni Lee, and your Bakuda. No more! No more will you walk with impunity down the streets of my city! From this day forward, if I see any of you in the colors of the ABB, I will wreak such havoc upon you that you will wish you only faced your monsters once more! So says Carnelian!"

Taylor spun and flew away at over four hundred miles an hour toward the third address on her list. She'd already decided that if Bakuda wasn't there, she'd do whatever it took to force whoever was there to tell her the Tinker's location.

Speeding through the streets, bile crept up from her stomach. Taylor poured anger and rage, guilt and horror, as well as a myriad of other emotions into the items at her side and attached to her Flight Stick. None of which made her feel any better.

She'd tried to escape the cesspool the gangs made her city, but once again they'd dragged her back down. Down into the dirt and the mud and the blood. Down to roll around with them in the slime as they did with everything that good or decent or kind in this world. This time, she needed to finish things. Beginning with Bakuda.

Her stomach firming up as she flew as fast as she could, Taylor prepared herself for the battle ahead.

The third location was a large factory complex within the abandoned areas of the docks. There was no sign of life outside, but Taylor could feel the auras of a large group within. Ducking her head, she rammed her Flight Stick directly into the side of the building almost twenty feet above the street. Simultaneously detonating a Wrath Grenade, she blew a hole all the way through the wall, sending debris scattering inside. She followed the debris into the building.

Below her was a hive of activity. On one side, there were dozens of people packing boxes and carrying them to others to be loaded aboard panel trucks. They were guarded by a half dozen men, all armed to the teeth.

On the other side, surrounded by another group of guards, there was a Humvee idling, its driver smoking a cigarette, while a short figure strode slowly back and forth next to it, idly flipping a small sphere up and down in her hand. The figure had straight black hair hanging out from under a leather cap, large opaque goggles over her eyes, and a metal mask with a gas mask styled filter covering the lower half of her face. A braided cord of black, yellow and green wires looped over one of her shoulders, while looped around the waist of her black cargo pants were dozens of small spheres.

Taylor shouted, "Bakuda! I've come for you!"

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Jennifer Lee, who had fashioned herself a mask months ago and rebranded herself as the Tinker, Bakuda, specializing in bombs, looked up as she heard something hit near the roof of her factory. Then she saw a crazy woman, dressed all in gray come shooting through a hole she'd made in the wall near the roof.

This factory was one of several that she had been using to build and store the materials she needed to build her bombs. Bakuda had decided to abandon it after one of her trace sniffer programs had indicated that someone on the net might have successfully compromised its location. As annoying as it was to move, it was still easier than trying to fight her way through Protectorate drones.

So she had forced everyone present to begin packing up all of her raw materials, as well as the finished products she had stored there. Or what was left of them.

Most were scattered all around the city, ready to explode when she commanded. While she had already detonated a few dozen, there were more than three times that many still ready to blow. From schools to hospitals to movie theaters, Bakuda had planned her terror campaign well.

Nominally, it had been supposed to be a distraction so that Oni Lee could rescue Lung. But truthfully, Bakuda had done it because she just enjoyed blowing things up. Having Lung in PRT captivity had merely allowed her to exercise that enjoyment on a scale she had never before attempted.

Now she was having the time of her life, something which was being interrupted by the annoying cape shouting her name. Raising her own voice, Bakuda commanded, "Someone, shoot that bitch."

She grinned at the sound of small arms fire blasting out from the more than a dozen soldiers she had guarding her factory. Then that smile became a frown of annoyance, as despite all that they could do, Carnelian, aboard her flying device, came on, seemingly ignoring their fire as if immune.

Then the vigilante cape landed right in the middle of a large group containing the majority of her enforcers. There she did something which caused them to be blasted away like rag dolls, many of their bones broken and all of them unconscious. Fascinated by the explosion that had occurred without the visible effects of flame and smoke, Bakuda carefully studied the other as she strode forward.

Raising the rocket launcher in her arms, Bakuda fired a time stop grenade at the other Parahuman, only for her to casually dodge it, effortlessly leaning her torso aside a foot or so to allow it to impact her workers around the trucks. She cursed its lack of a proximity fuse as it exploded among them and slowed down the dozen or so people there to a standstill. Bakuda knew that they'd still be standing there when the universe ended however many billions of years from now that happened. Her bomb was just that good. It just needed a proximity fuse so that she could set it off manually on a near miss.

Two of her men attempted to fight Carnelian, one with an axe, the other with a katana. Bakuda's eyes widened as the vigilante cape swung a strange gray sword almost as tall as she was and cut through the axe, the katana, and the men themselves with one blow.

As her defenders and their weapons fell into two pieces in front of her, the Tinker raised her voice and addressed the other Parahuman, "Carnelian! Greetings! I am Bakuda and you have chosen to invade my place. You should have remembered what they say about confronting Tinkers in their lairs, but then I somehow doubt that you're the cerebral type. No, it looks like you're more the type of girl who jumps in with both feet just in time to get them bitten off! I am going to destroy you!"

Bakuda broke off her diatribe, waiting for some response. After all, it was the back and forth that she enjoyed, the questing against another Parahuman, while the human cattle who were forced to join in, perished around them. Even now, those same cattle attempted to flee, while disappointingly, Carnelian stood silent.

Bringing up an image of two of her guards running away on her HUD, Bakuda carefully targeted them both, then tapped the rings on her toes together. She laughed in delight as one of them melted into an unrecognizable puddle, while the other slowly burned into ash, his agonized screams drawing Carnelian's attention.

The gray-clad cape, who now stood barely a dozen feet away from Bakuda, had turned to stare at the effects of the bombs in her guards. Now she turned back and started forward again.

Holding up a warning finger, Bakuda taunted, "Attack me, and I'll do the same thing to every one here, including the innocent people I shanghaied to help me. If I die, then so do all of them! Ha ha! I am invincible now!" The lies sat easily upon her tongue even as she said them. The Deadman's switch was something that she planned for the near future, but something which Lung's capture had delayed. Even given another two weeks, she would have had it installed. Instead, all she had were manual switches to activate her bombs, both the ones planted around the city and those within her henchmen.

Carnelian stopped, seeming to hesitate as if considering something. There was something about the way the other cape was standing that seemed familiar to Bakuda. Then she knew. Even as she pulled out another grenade, this one designed to turn any matter to glass, and began to ready it, the other cape acted. There was a strange sensation of force against Bakuda's body and she was briefly airborne before the world went white.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

 **AN:** You really didn't think that what happened in the last chapter was going to stand, did you? That Taylor, in her guise as Carnelian, the spirit of justice for the people in Brockton Bay, would actually manage to stand down and not be pushed over the edge once more?


	12. Chapter Twelve: On the Cusp of Madness

**Chapter Twelve: On the Cusp of Madness Lies...**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dean continued to wait in the room adjacent to Armsmaster's lab for the armored cape to return. He was aware that there had been some kind of emergency that had called the other away, but then again, this was Brockton Bay. It was rare that a week went by without some kind of recall of Protectorate capes to deal with something, whether inspired by the gangs, or just a drill on the part of their leader.

That they hadn't yet called in the Wards was telling, so Dean remained relatively unconcerned. Still, he was beginning to grow extremely bored as he sat there waiting.

Getting to his feet, he paced the room, avoiding the doorway which led into Armsmaster's lab proper and which contained Carnelian's orb in its stasis field as if it held some form of the plague.

Even hanging there in mid air within the blue of the stasis field, the orb radiated sickness and decay. It glowed a yellow like the color of pus from the wound of a man dying of septicemia. It held enough anguish and pain to drown the world in a sorrow from which it would never recover. It was sick and disgusting and the fact that Carnelian had been the one to made it labeled her a villain or worse. Just staring at it made Dean feel nauseated, like a moderately rancid meal sitting precariously upon one's stomach. He didn't want to get even one inch closer to the thing than he absolutely had to.

But if he were to somehow convince Armsmaster and the others of the danger that Carnelian posed, he needed to better understand her. And the things she made. So slowly Dean stepped into the lab and approached until he was less than a foot away. The queasiness in his stomach increased as he did his damnedest to glean some kind of information from the disgusting thing.

But it was all in vain. Sitting there like a poisonous spider in its web, the orb did not surrender any of its secrets. Instead, it seemed to draw one in and Dean woke as if from a trance, his nose only inches away, just outside the glow keeping it positioned.

Just as he was about to move back, a siren suddenly sounded in the base. Startled, he spun around, and in a move made clumsy by his own panic and disgust, hit the orb with his arm, knocking it from within the safe confines of the stasis field that held it, and sending it falling to the ground where it landed with a sharp clatter.

Dean had just one moment to realize what he'd done, then the orb began to pulse. Even as he turned to run, there was a flash of light without sound or any other effect, and it washed over the teenager, sending him to his knees.

Eyes wide open in utter shock and horror, Dean Stansfield collapsed to the ground and began to scream, over and over again.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa went over the data on her laptop several more times. Then she downloaded the latest feeds from the news services. Finally, she checked a 'special' source that she dared not allow anyone else to find out about. As pressure steadily mounted within her head, she blinked over and over, trying to force back her ever increasing headache, as she attempted to make the connection.

Absently, she slipped the exhausted grey stone ring onto her finger, its cool, slick finish almost comforting to her. She sighed as her headache seemed to decrease ever so slightly. Then she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her back to awareness. Lisa quickly shut her power down before she wasted it on whoever her distraction was.

Turning to her right and recognizing Brian, she asked, "What?"

He looked as exhausted as she felt, soot standing out starkly against the surprising paleness of his usually cafe mocha colored skin. There was a look in Brian's eyes that Lisa had never seen before, no matter how awful things had gone, as if one more thing could break him. Then he disguised the vulnerability and said, "I've done everything I could. The other searchers and I have pretty much shifted all the remaining debris. I'm pretty sure that there aren't any more survivors. I waited a little while longer to rouse you, but we need to get out of here."

Lisa considered Brian's words, and then, in an urgent tone, she said, "I need just a few more minutes. Uh, can you grab my bags from over by the picnic tables and put them in your car?"

Brian started to run a filthy hand over his corn rowed hair, then seemed to think better of it. Glaring, he asked, "Dammit, Lisa, can't you just look at stuff in the car? We need to gear up in case this nightmare spills over onto the Undersiders. I've got Rachel and Alec waiting for us back at the loft."

"Just five more minutes," Lisa pleaded, sending the leader of the Undersiders a look designed to persuade him to her side. A look that said _I know what I'm doing_.

Brian, despite likely knowing exactly what Lisa was doing, succumbed anyway as she had known he would. "Okay, fine. Five minutes only, though. Not a second more."

Lisa focused on the remaining data pool in front of her. Okay, she thought to herself, you can do this.

 _Bakuda. Tinker. Specialty bombs with myriad effects ranging from explosive to freeze to time dilation_.

Lisa dismissed that general line of thought as the pain in her head increased, although not by as much as she feared. She needed to focus on more specific information.

 _Bakuda. Requires secrecy to work. Needs multiple hands to provide supplies and support. Work area must be at least twenty feet by twenty feet. Storage area-_

Shaking her head in disgust, something that only made it hurt that much more, Lisa refocused her power.

 _Bakuda. Planted bombs all around city. Will provide distraction for Oni Lee to rescue Lung. Pattern is-_

Goddamn it, Lisa thought, anger only making her head throb worse. What the hell was wrong with her power? She should be able to figure this out. Trying once more to focus through her increasingly blurred vision, Lisa let loose her power again.

 _Bakuda. Sensed that someone had discovered her location. Moving operations. Current location is..._

Lisa jerked as Brian shook her head roughly. Despite his act, his voice was surprisingly gentle, "You were jerking really bad like you were having a seizure. Lisa, what the fuck is going on?"

Turning blazing eyes towards Brian, Lisa croaked, "Bakuda is at 5247 Meadowland. There's a factory on the northeast corner. We need to get there as soon as possible, or something terrible is going to happen. There's someone we have to help. Go-"

Before she could say anything else, Lisa's consciousness began to slip away. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her, was Brian's incredulous eyes staring into her own.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Tearing pain woke Taylor. She bit back a scream of agony as consciousness flooded her mind. Struggling to sit up, she could not and fell back onto the rough ground. Something was pinning one of her legs. Managing to brace herself up onto her elbows, she contorted her upper body into a kind of half sit up. Then she caught her first look at her right leg and gasped in horror.

From a few inches above her knee down to her foot, her leg had been replaced by something else. Something smooth and shiny that glittered like glass. Then Taylor realized that it was glass. Somehow, her leg and its accompanying armor had been turned into glass. Her eyes tried to make sense of the scene as she saw how her armor's aura guttered near the affected area, only occasional flickers of blue lighting the material near the border.

Then another surge of agony tore through Taylor and this time she did scream. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHGGGGGGGG!"

Tears streamed down her face as the pain momentarily grew too intense to bear. Finally, though, it faded to merely a dull throbbing ache that almost felt good in comparison. Furiously blinking back her tears, Taylor tried to make sense of what had happened.

The last thing she remembered was Bakuda taunting her. Telling her that the other was invincible and could not be defeated without killing all of the people around her. That her death would kill them all.

But it had all been a _lie_. Taylor remember the flares in Bakuda's aura as she said the words. Flares that meant the other was lying. That she didn't have any way of hurting others except by her own actions.

Having witnessed the horrific act of Bakuda executing two of her own men for merely running away, one burning alive while the other turned to some kind of goo, Taylor had realized that she needed to act. Bakuda, even more so than Lung, was a monster that simply could not be treated as a human being. That if left unopposed, she would kill hundreds or even thousands more. It was up to Taylor to deal with her.

But she'd also realized that as fast as she could move, Bakuda could still find a way to kill who knows how many more people. Painfully twisting around to look behind her, Taylor saw the frozen bodies of yet more victims of the mad bomber who appeared frozen in time. Remembering what she'd read about Gray Boy's victims, Taylor resisted the urge to vomit.

Yes, knowing that Bakuda would kill more people, Taylor had needed to act. She had... she had... For the longest time, Taylor couldn't remember what had happened. Then it came to her. To stop Bakuda in her tracks, she had detonated every grenade upon her, from the Regurgitation to the Wrath grenades even though she'd received a warning against doing so from her necklace even as she sent the order. The resulting shockwave had overtaken Bakuda and slammed her into the vehicle behind her. Then the strange bomb the other cape held in her hands had exploded in a dazzling burst of colors and effects, as had many of the others in the Humvee behind her.

Taylor couldn't remember anything after that, no matter how she tried. Maybe she had already been unconscious. Turning her head to try to discover what had happened to the other cape, her eyes encountered a bizarre sight.

There was what appeared to be a statue made of glass, its hands held up in a defensive gesture, flung up against a vehicle made of glass. It took a moment for Taylor's eyes to make out the identity of the statue's model because of the strange things going on around it. Then she realized that what she was seeing wasn't a model, but instead the vicious cape who had attacked the city. And who would never attack anyone or anything again.

The glass statue that was Bakuda appeared to be on fire, strangely colored flames blazing up into the sky and melting the glass that made her up into a puddle. Flames that were oddly motionless, some standing in mid air, icicles hanging from them. That was when Taylor realized that like the figures behind her, the one in front of her was frozen in time. As were all of the effects around her.

Seeing frozen flames with icicles hanging from them that did not move was incredibly bizarre. Watching others half turned into a goo that had just started to run and drip similarly to the person who had died earlier also frozen in mid air was even weirder.

A fresh surge of agony ripped through Taylor but she managed to bite back her scream this time. What was wrong with her Regeneration ring, she wondered? Shouldn't it have started to heal her? Carefully, she moved from her position propped on her elbows to turn slightly on her side, doing her best to ignore the pain even the slightest movement brought out in force.

Now she was finally able to see her leg completely, especially the edge where vulnerable flesh met the glass edge. Her new position made her costume, and likely the flesh beneath, twist against the unyielding edge of the glass. The pain from the move was ridiculous and sweat broke up all across Taylor's forehead, despite her costume's temperature control qualities.

How the hell was she going to get loose, Taylor wondered, trying to ignore the fact that her leg was for all intents and purposes gone from the middle of her thigh on down. While she could very likely muscle her way loose using her Brute strength, the pain would likely be too intense to bear, based upon what a few small movements did to her. Then her attention was distracted by the sound of voices coming from somewhere beyond her sight. A moment later, three young men of Asian descent came into view, arguing furiously in some foreign language that Taylor didn't understand.

After a few seconds, they spotted her and reacted by shouting and pulling out guns; what appeared to be two semiautomatics and a revolver. Then a fusillade of shots struck the ground around Taylor, a handful hitting her with a sensation only of minor taps. Then a shot hit her leg near the spot where it was fused into glass.

She screamed as agony ripped into her anew. Cursing the men who were shooting at her, Taylor struggled to grab a Wrath grenade from her belt. But it hurt so badly every time she moved even in the slightest. Finally, though, she managed to pull the Wrath grenade loose and threw it.

Unfortunately, by the time she got the grenade thrown, her attackers had hidden and the resulting blast merely threw debris around. Stifling a cry of frustration, Taylor tried to see where the gang members had disappeared to.

Then a shot spanged off of her helmet. Groaning as her leg felt like it was aflame, Taylor turned her head. Then another bullet hit her chest piece from a different direction.

From off to Taylor's left, a taunting voice sounded with a thick Oriental accent, ″Bwitch, we are going to keel you.″

A different voice, speaking in an almost unaccented tone, sounded from her right, ″Can't you move? Oooh, too fuckin' bad. We are going to kill you because of what you did to Bakuda.″

A third voice, with an even thicker accent than the first, said, ″Kwill wer kwik. Hwead gwoes two Wung.″

The voices closed in around Taylor, taunting her with increasingly gruesome threats. Taylor held herself ready, preparing to fire off all of her Wrath grenades again. She shuddered at the idea of what it would do to her leg, though.

Then she got an idea. Reaching out for her Flight Stick, she found it nearby. Then she mentally guided it towards her, to the apparent consternation of her attackers. At least according to their loud curses. Deliberately, she aimed it towards a voice, only for it to impact against something solid that didn't sound like human flesh. Taylor tried to steer it around, while constantly turning her head, even as darkness edged her vision from the near suffocating pain.

But she wasn't hitting them, something which became evident to her attackers. The courage growing, they began to close in on her again. A moment later, a rock spanged off her helm. Then another.

Attacks from rocks and debris, as well as bullets, continued to hit Taylor, with her attackers staying just out of sight as well as out of reach of her grenades, although that was likely more from luck than any actual idea of their range. So far, they weren't really a threat, more of an annoyance, but Taylor couldn't do anything to get herself loose while under the constant bombardment.

Suddenly the bombardment stopped. But before Taylor could let out the deep breath in relief, an object soared through the air that she recognized from countless movies as a grenade. A real grenade.

It landed out of Taylor's reach and bounced a bit closer, but she still couldn't reach it to toss it back. Then all she could do was brace herself for impact and hope her armor could take it. A moment later, as the grenade flashed in her face, she had the answer.

She nearly lost consciousness at the sensation that tore through her leg. As Taylor looked out through an ever decreasing tunnel before her eyes, she mused that while her armor appeared grenade-proof, the joining between it and the mass of glass that composed the floor and her lower leg was not. Thus the pain that forced Taylor to savagely bite her own tongue in an effort to maintain consciousness.

Finally, the world opened up again and Taylor could see again, even as she panted out her pain. She spat blood from her mouth into her helm where it seemed to melt through the material to the outside world. She didn't know it could do that, Taylor thought woozily. Beginning to feel desperate enough to attempt to tear herself loose, she readied herself for more pain than she'd ever felt before.

At that moment, another wave of darkness fell over Taylor's sight as she struggled to focus her thoughts, terrified she was going unconscious before she could act. She almost panicked, then saw an aura through the darkness, one that didn't make her feel like she at risk. This aura was composed of oranges and purples, and yellows and blues, all strong shades of the colors that Taylor come to associate with positive emotions. Momentarily, it disappeared from sight.

A few seconds later, there were several brutal thuds muffled by the darkness. Then the darkness faded away as if it had never existed. A moment later, Taylor heard a familiar voice.

″Taylor, what happened to yo- OH MY GOD! What happened to your leg?″

Turning her head as much as was possible, Taylor saw Lisa standing over and behind her. A moment later, the blonde girl scrambled across the unstable debris field to stumble to a stop next to her. There she stared in horror at Taylor's leg, her own face scrunched up in a grimace of pain.

Taylor managed to get out, ″Hey, Lisa.″

″Oh God. Your leg, Taylor. What can I do?″

Taylor shivered, aware more than ever of just how much pain she was in, now that the latest threat to her life had ended. She warned, ″Don't do anything. If I try to move, it hurts too bad to bear.″

Lisa's face slowly took on a determined look, her grimace fading. ″Taylor, we have to do something. Shit! Maybe Brian will know what to do.″

A voice came from just behind and to Taylor right, ″I'll know what to do about what? Lisa, did you see Bakuda? At least I think it's Bakuda. Talk about being fucked up. She-″

The boy, Brian's, voice abruptly stopped as he apparently had come into sight of Taylor. Urgently, he said, ″Lisa, step away from her. Don't you recognize her? That's Carnelian!″

Taylor almost smiled at the eye roll Lisa did at Brian's words. The blonde said, ″Yes, I know. Now help me figure out a way to get her leg loose so that we can move her.″

Brian was now in view and Taylor took a long look that had nothing to do with how attractive the boy was. The boy, almost a man, really, was probably about eighteen. Tall and dark-skinned, with broad shoulders and dark brown eyes, he wore jeans and a t-shirt that might have once been white, although now it was smudged and filthy. Over it all, he wore an expensive black leather jacket that had also seen better days, burns and tears damaging the glossy black material. His hair was pulled in tight to his skull in corn rows, the beads small and uniformly colored ivory. Standing there, big and muscular, he looked the epitome of confident.

Brian's face, on the other hand, radiated concern at the sight of Lisa kneeling next to Taylor. Sharply, he said, ″Lisa, don't be an idiot. Get away from her and let's get out of here and go look for the person you want to help.″

In a carefully controlled voice, Lisa said, ″Carnelian is the person I want to help. Or Taylor, rather. Taylor, can you please take off that helmet? It's freaking Brian out and it's not doing much for me either.″

Did she want to unmask to yet another person? Then remembering just how many people at the site of the preschool had already seen her face, Taylor huffed, ″Fine.″ She reached up and took off her helmet, shaking out her long, dark curls. She met the African-American boy's surprised eyes defiantly as he took in his first view of her actual features, those of a fifteen-year-old girl, sweaty curls hanging like a dark halo around her face.

He ran a shaking hand over his tight knit hair. ″Fuck, Lisa! You can't just have capes unmasking in front of us like that! It's not how it's done!″

″I didn't. I already knew who Carnelian was. We'd already met. That's why I wanted to help her. Although I thought it would be help with Bakuda she'd need, not her minions.″

″I was handling it. Them. I was handling them.″

Lisa's face took on a ghostly version of her usual grin as she stared again at Taylor's leg before looking back at her face. ″Sure you were. They would have eventually either gotten you, or kept you busy until Oni Lee or Lung got here.″

Taylor twisted around, a deep groan torn from her throat as agony hammered her nearly into unconsciousness. Still, she managed to get out, ″Lung escaped? How?″

The blonde Thinker explained, ″Oni Lee busted him out. While the Protectorate was running around trying to rescue people from all of the bombed out buildings. All told, fourteen buildings were hit. Casualties are in the hundreds, at the very least, and are likely to reach over a thousand. Even with Bakuda dead, the PRT is going to want blood for what happened today.″

Taylor stared at the blonde's face as she spoke, her thoughts racing furiously. She had made a mistake in letting Lung live. Now her city was paying. She could never again allow someone else to dictate her own actions to her. From now on, she would need to show her ruthless side to her enemies, teach them to fear her, and eliminate those who would not flee. No matter the cost. She would-

Taylor's thoughts were interrupted by a hard poke in her side. Snarling, she looked up at Lisa's face, whose expression belied the pale blue taking over her aura. Still the blonde got credit for trying.

Brian asked, ″What's going on? Why is she acting like that?″ His aura had taken on pale blue tones as well, and Taylor momentarily mourned the loss of the strong primary colors it had contained earlier. Then she forced herself to focus once again upon her blonde tormentor.

In a mocking tone, one that Taylor thought she'd use to the person who killed her, Lisa explained, ″Taylor here got temporary delusions of grandeur. She needs to a good does of reality and fortunately for her, I happen to be right here.″

Despite her annoyance at the other's tone and actions, the frivolity managed to pull Taylor from her dark thoughts. Well, that and the fact that her leg was once again agonizingly painful. Clenching her teeth, she said, ″Do either of you have any helpful suggestions as to how to get my leg loose?″

Brian opened his mouth, then hesitated, clearly having second thoughts about saying anything. Lisa, on the other hand, said, ″Brian's right. Your leg is going to have to come off. I can see that your ring's trying to heal it, but can't because it's mostly glass. That's why it hurts so much. I think if it comes off, you might be able to regenerate.″

Brian protested, ″I never said that.″ His aura's flare, though, belied his words.

Lisa winced as she corrected him, ″Of course you did, silly. Just not with words. Taylor, do you have anything that can take off your leg? I know you have some seriously sharp blades that would do a far better job than anything Brian has.″

Taylor opened her mouth, then closed it again. Feeling the inevitability of it, she said, ″You can use my short sword. Here, let me get it out.″

Somehow, Taylor managed to twist enough to pull out the Wrath short sword she had on her other side of her waist. Panting in response to the intensity of the pain she felt, she carefully started to hand it off to Lisa, then said, ″Wait! Put on a glove or something.″

Looking in visible trepidation at the object being held out to her, Lisa looked around, then carefully grabbed a scrap of cloth. Wrapping it around her hand so that it acted like a glove, she took the sword from Taylor. Looking curious, she asked Taylor, ″What would it have done to my bare hand?″

In a deadpan voice, Taylor answered, ″It _could_ drive you into a homicidal rage so intense that you'll try to kill someone.″

Lisa's paled, as did her aura. "Fuck, you're serious. Okay, so I don't touch your sword." She then looked over at the boy standing a few feet away who was still staring at Taylor in trepidation. She ordered, "Brian, come over here and take this sword so that you can cut Taylor's leg off. Make sure you wrap your hand first."

"Are you insane? I'm not cutting off anyone's leg, let alone someone as... ahhh..."

Feeling almost drunk with the pain she was under, Taylor helpfully suggested, "Crazy as me?"

Brian flinched, then recovered. "Look, I've got nothing against you. And I just did you a solid. But I'm not cutting anyone's leg off. Understand me, Lisa?"

At that moment, there was a searing pain in Taylor's leg so intense that she couldn't help the agonized scream it ripped from her. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHGGGGGGGG!"

The pain went on and on and Taylor screamed until her throat felt raw and sore. Finally, it subsided and she looked up through tear-filled eyes to see the boy, Brian, staring down at her from where he knelt at her side.

Tensely, he said, "Don't move. I need to get a tourniquet around it so you don't bleed to death."

Shakily, Taylor said, "M-my sword doesn't make someone bleed when I cut them. At least not when I cut off a limb."

Brian opened his mouth as if to ask how could she possible know. Then he visibly reconsidered. Instead he said, "Lisa, give her that piece of wood to bite down on."

Lisa pressed two things into Taylor's hand, a piece of wood, apparently to be put between her teeth, and her other Regeneration ring. She swiftly put one on her finger, and then the other between her teeth. Then she quickly nodded to Brian, meeting his eyes once more before closing her own.

The next couple of minutes passed in a blur for Taylor. She heard her two rescuers arguing over something, but was in so much pain that she couldn't make heads or tails of the subject.

There was a faint banging sound, then a searing pain in her leg, and finally blessed relief. A moment later, Taylor was being lifted in the air and carried away. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the sight of one of her legs missing from about four inches above her knee on down as she was carried along in a bridal hold by the tall young man who had taken it off. The stump of her leg was wrapped with Brian's jacket and Taylor could faintly feel the jaggedness of the lowest part of her leg armor where it had been turned to glass rasping against her bare flesh.

Still there was a soothing relief spreading through her being that seemed centered upon her fingers. Taking a deep breath that then made its way out from her without pain was quite probably the best thing that Taylor had ever experienced. Then a sudden thought occurred to her.

Grabbing Brian's sleeve, she demanded, "Make sure Lisa grabs my Wrath sword. And my Wrath grenade. I don't think I left anything else there. She can pile them onto my Flight Stick and it'll follow me wherever I go."

Her rescuer looked down into Taylor's face with incredulity. "You seriously call your sword a 'wrath' sword?"

Feeling an intense blush sweep over her face, Taylor muttered, "The name seemed cool at the time."

From behind Taylor, a voice, it's tone somewhere between concern and amusement, called it, "Don't worry, Taylor, I got it! Your sword and stuff are on your... uh, 'flight stick'."

Taylor muttered, "Assholes." Then darkness descended upon her once more.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Brian carefully laid the unconscious girl in the back seat of his car, mourning the loss of his favorite jacket. Of course, it had been pretty fucked even before he's used it as a wrap for the bloody stump of the girl's leg. The horrific act of cutting off someone's leg was still making him shake. Of course, before he'd been able to cut it off, he'd had to free it from the mass of glass around it. Using the short sword, he'd managed to cut through the surrounding glass as if it were no more substantial than air, freeing what was left of the girl's leg.

The sight of Carnelian's leg stump, encrusted with glass, had been probably the single most disgusting thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Even taking in the sight of it after he took another inch off with her sword so as to remove all of the glass didn't compare. Of course, the sight of blood vessels and other strange structures seeming to grow out from it in extreme slow motion had come a close second. He'd wrapped it in his jacket to remove the disgusting sight from his view.

Brian made sure the vigilante cape wasn't going to slid off the seat when he took off, then turned to the blonde standing next to him. Tensely, he said, "Lisa, this has got to be the worst fuck up you've ever gotten me involved in. How the hell did you find out who Carnelian was between the other night and today?"

The blonde Thinker, who did not look even the least bit sorry, shrugged. "Met her on the Boardwalk today shopping for clothes clothes. I started helping her pick out outfits from the clearance table at _Yvonne's_. She was trying them on in the dressing room when I saw something that made my power fill me in that she was Carnelian. We sat down and talked, although it was mostly her talking to me. Then the bombing happened. You pretty much know the rest."

Brian shook his head. "No, Lisa, I don't 'know the rest'. Fuck! Why the hell did you have to drag me here? Why the fuck did I come with you?"

"Because under all of that pretend selfishness and cynicism, you're actually a pretty good guy who doesn't mind helping people."

With deadly intensity, Brian stated, "Carnelian is not people. Fuck, Lisa, she's a natural disaster! You were _there_ for God's sake when she chewed up Hookwolf!"

Brian slammed the door to the backseat of his car and headed around to the other side. Getting inside, he sat down, only to be confronted with Lisa's stubborn face from the seat next to his. With intensity that was an equal to his, she said, " _Taylor_ is a teenage girl who's gotten a raw deal. She was fucked over by her school. Then fucked over again by the PRT, although I don't have the full story there. I just didn't want to be one more person who fucked her over. So please, tell me what a bad person I am."

"You used your power on her."

Lisa rolled her eyes, one of her habits that Brian probably found the least endearing. "Of course, I used my power on her. When I outed her, I didn't know if she was going to leap up and tear me into a million pieces or do to me whatever the hell she did to that sword the other night. However, my power showed me that she wasn't even mad. That the funny, sweet girl I had just met was the real deal and not the psycho thug that everyone thinks she is. That she needed help, someone to help her navigate the pitfalls of cape politics."

Brian just shook his head. He tiredly said, "Do you seriously expect me to buy that? Maybe Carnelian isn't all that bad? Even if I could wrap my head around that concept, you can't tell me she reacted well when that preschool blew up."

At least the other had the decency to look chagrined. "Okay, maybe Taylor went a little nuts when the school blew up. But she walked into that mess and immediately started helping people. When there were kids dying, she used her powers even though she was out of costume. I don't need my power to tell me that if it wasn't for her, fourteen people wouldn't be alive right now."

Brian felt his heart speed up at _that_ little tidbit. "Do you even hear yourself? She's outed? Seriously? That's just going to make it even more dangerous to be around her."

Lisa countered, "She's not outed, Brian. No one there had cameras, nor were there any traffic cameras close enough to tag us. At best, the authorities might have a physical description. Plus, Taylor's not even in school, so if they go looking for someone matching her physical description there, they won't find her."

"Still, I don't think it's a good idea to be around her. I-"

"What if I said she's willing to help the Undersiders?"

Brian felt his jaw drop. He spat out, "I call bullshit! There is no way that someone like Carnelian would help us. She's a freaking vigilante! We're criminals. The two don't exactly mix."

A weak voice sounded from the back seat. "But you're not bad criminals, are you, Brian?"

Almost swerving into the oncoming lane, Brian blurted out, "Don't do that!"

A weak, rasping laugh came from the back seat. "Haaa. You jumped like a girl. I could help you out a lot, couldn't I?"

Brian sat there, driving on auto-pilot, as his brain went into overdrive. Yeah, having Carnelian help his team would be an enormous increase in firepower for them. Their versatility would go through the roof. They would not have to worry about any Parahuman group in Brockton Bay, including a Lung that had just escaped from jail. Even if having her associated with the team might move them up on the dragonish cape's list of things to do.

Then Brian shook his head. For just a second, he'd nearly bought into what Lisa was selling. Drunk the cool aid as they say. With finality, he said, "I don't believe either of you."

Then the voice from the back seat, already sounding stronger, said, "What if you could count on me _occasionally_ helping you? You're right. There's not much more chance I'd help the Undersiders in every situation, than that I'd join the Protectorate. But I wouldn't mind helping you against other _Villains_. You help me now, I'll help you later."

Brian cursed the triumphant look on his teammate's face as she smiled at him. Fuck! He muttered, "Yeah, okay, that would be worth something. Understand, though, that this is _three_ solids you'll owe us."

"Considering that the fact that Lung will be looking for her and not us now that he's out of jail could almost be considered one of those."

Pulling up in front of their loft, Brian turned and glared at his teammate. "I don't think the scary vigilante needs you to defend her, Lisa. Do you?″

Carnelian's voice, now sounding a lot more like the exhausted teenage girl that she was beneath her costume, agreed, ″No, I don't. All I need is a quiet place to see if my leg is going to heal all the way, or if my dad is going to find out about me being a Parahuman because I'm missing a limb.″

Brian winced at the bald truth of the girl's statement. He exchanged a look with Lisa, who said, ″Taylor, I think it will heal. I can't use my power right now because my head is about explode, but it looked like it was already trying to heal.″

The girl in the backseat was silent a moment, then quietly asked, ″What's wrong with your head, Lisa?″

Brian watched Lisa close her eyes as if the stress of even seeing the things around her was becoming too much. ″I get Thinker headaches when I overuse my power. It's a thing.″

A slim, long fingered hand reached between the seats from the backseat and squeezed Lisa's arm. Brian felt a shiver of mingled fear and amazement as the blonde's frown smoothed away as if by magic, a sigh of relief spilling from her parted lips.

Lisa's eyes opened wide at the sudden relief from pain. Turning her head, she demanded, ″What the hell did you just do to me?″

There was a weak chuckle from the back seat. ″I healed you. Just don't use your power again anytime soon because I need to try to use all of the healing I can on myself. Just so that you know, I think I'm going to pass out now.″

Taylor's voice faded and the two other teens sat in silence in the car. Finally, Brian turned to his teammate, and in a low, controlled voice, said, ″I want to make one thing clear. I get that you feel the need to show everyone that you're the smartest person in the room and sometime to force the issue, whatever 'the' issue is. Most of the time, I don't have problem with it. But if you ever force this team to deal with one of your arbitrary decisions of this magnitude again, I will make you sorry. Do you understand me?″

Lisa, who had listened to both Brian's words, and using her power, likely the intent and intensity of the feelings behind them, carefully nodded. She started to open her mouth, then seemed to reconsider, and stayed silent.

Waiting a beat, Brian added, ″Having Carnelian's help could be a hell of a boon for us. At the same time, it is going to open us up to more risks and scrutiny from the authorities than anything we have done up to this point by an order of magnitude. I think it could be more positive than negative, but we'll have to wait and see.″

Opening his door, Brian got out of the car. Opening the back door, he carefully gathered up the limp form of the girl inside. With a shiver, he noticed that the weird flying thing that she had so originally called a 'flight stick' was still following them. With a sigh, Brian turned and carried Carnelian over to his team's headquarters, already rehearsing what he was going to tell the others.

Regardless, all he was looking forward to for the next couple of hours was a major clusterfuck, one he would have to deal with. Glancing over to his left where Lisa walked alongside him, wearing a slowly recovering Cheshire grin, Brian mused that at least he had that much help.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa winced as Rachel let loose another profanity-laden diatribe aimed at the cape currently occupying their couch. ″She needs to get the fuck out of here. Now.″

Rachel's face bristled with indignation and anger as she stalked back and forth in front of the the aforementioned couch. On it, Taylor lay unconscious, while she and Brian sat on opposite arms, guarding the girl.

Lisa opened her mouth to speak, her power letting her know exactly what buttons to press, but Rachel whirled and snarled at her before she could get the words out. ″You! Don't. You always say stuff that confuses me. Fuck that! I'm not... She needs to leave. My dogs...″

″Rachel, calm down. Because I'm telling you that Taylor is going to stay here for a few days whether you like it or not. Look, don't push me on this. You won't like it.″

Lisa silently took in the scene. Brian had risen to his feet and now stood between Bitch and her prey. On the other side, the dog-themed cape bristled at the challenge and stood her ground, looking like she was about to try to jump him. Despite her power, she wasn't sure if it was the fact that Taylor was here in their space or if it was because her dogs had been temporarily exiled to the ground floor for a few hours. With Rachel, it could have been either.

That was when Alec weighed in. ″I don't care if she stays here as long as she makes me a replacement for my scepter that can blast people with invisible hits. That video on the net of her is fucking awesome.″

″They're not invisible.″

The weak voice came from the girl laying on the couch, whose eyes were now open as she stared around herself. In an effort to be nonchalant, she said, ″Nice lair.″

Lisa nodded. ″I told you that it wasn't so much a lair as a hang out. Welcome to the secret headquarters of the Undersiders.″

″She ain't fucking welcome! Get the fuck out of here, you little shit!″ Bitch made an abortive attempt to close with the wounded cape and Brian intercepted her, grabbing one of her arms and forcing it behind her back.

With an almost clinical detachment, Taylor asked, ″What's her deal?″

″Rachel doesn't like outsiders coming here. Or thinking they might join us.″

″She's the one the PRT calls Hellhound?″

″It's Bitch, you cunt! Get out! My dogs belong here, not you!″

Taylor struggled to sit up a moment, then said, ″Let her go.″

As Brian released Rachel, she stood there for a moment looking worried and confused. A moment later, she launched herself at the sitting girl, who easily grabbed her arms and subdued her, pulling her into a rough headlock. The tall boy frowned and looked as if he was going to intervene again, this time on his teammate's side, when Taylor said, ″I'm not going to hurt her. Probably.″

Lisa watched carefully, as Taylor grabbed the other's head, forcing Rachel to look into her eyes. Then she said something too low for her to hear. There was another short round of staring, then she said something else low. Rachel flinched at that, then averted her eyes. After a moment, Taylor pushed her away and Rachel went without another word, although her backward glance was telling.

Once the dog-themed cape had left the room, likely heading downstairs to take care of her dogs, who had been temporarily exiled after Taylor had been brought inside, she turned to Lisa and asked, ″I told her that she could bring her dogs back in. I hope that's okay. What happened to her? She's so broken inside. Her aura...″

Lisa felt her eyes widen as her power filled in the details of what was going on.

 _Taylor. Carnelian. Can read emotions as easily as others read expressions. Able to manipulate those emotions through words and actions to create healthier individuals. Can use same triggers to further damage individuals._

What she'd just read showed Taylor to quite possibly be the greatest psychological counselor the world has ever seen as well as quite possibly the most dangerously manipulative Parahuman alive. Lisa shivered at the thought of being manipulated herself.

Then she shivered again as Taylor said, ″Don't worry, I don't plan to try to make you feel one way or another about me.″

Brian demanded, ″Lisa, what's she talking about?″

Lisa opened her mouth, but it was Taylor who beat her to the punch. ″Lisa just found out that I can use my ability to read emotions to manipulate people. I haven't really used it much, just on my dad to help pull him out of the funk that he's been in since my mom died.″

Lisa intervened before Brian could start yelling. ″Brian, she's telling the truth. She doesn't do that to others, even if she has the ability.″

″What do you call what she just did to Bitch, then?″ Alec asked, eyes sharp with interest, then yawned theatrically in fake boredom.

Taylor's eyes narrowed as she took the other in. After a moment, she said, ″I fixed it so she wouldn't attack me. Established my dominance. Look, I can read emotions. Mostly I do that to figure out who can and can't be trusted, as well as who's dangerous. From this, I can see that Brian and Lisa can be trusted. Even... ah... Bitch can be trusted. On the other hand, you can't.″

Alec laughed. ″Fuck you, bitch. I love it that the big bad vigilante is scared of little old me.″

Something stirred in Taylor and Lisa felt alarm bells going off. Something fell and deadly lurked in the shadows of the brunette's eyes as she said, ″I didn't say that I'm scared of you. Or that you're dangerous. What I said, is that you can't be trusted. I'll just put it out there right now, betray me, and I _will_ deal with you.″

Alec opened his mouth to say something else incendiary, but Lisa headed it off. Sharply, she said, ″That's enough, Alec. She's serious.″ Turning back to Taylor, she asked, ″Do you really mean it when you say that Brian and I can be trusted?″

Taylor slowly nodded, her eyes sliding from Lisa over to Brian, then back. ″Yes. I'm not going out on a limb and saying that you'll die for me, but you do have some kind of principles that I don't think you'd violate.″

Brian, sounding to Lisa's relief more curious than upset, asked, ″So you can see what? Our emotions? How does that even work?″

Taylor shrugged. ″I can see auras. It's these swirling bands of colors that make people up. From them, I can usually tell if someone is a good person or not.″

Not having to fake her interest, Lisa asked, ″What color am I?″

Taylor looked her over, then said, ″Yellow, blue, silver, and a little green, with a faint wash of pale blue over your entirety.″

″What about Brian?″

The look Taylor turned towards the African-American boy held a myriad of emotions, most of them easily read by Lisa's power. Then she decided to be careful trying to play matchmaker since one of the people involved could read her as easily as she read them. Absently, she registered Taylor's words as she said, ″Orange, blue, purple, and gray, with a faint wash of red over him.″

Brian asked, ″And Alec?″

Even Alec looked up in faint interest for the answer to this one. Taylor gave him a once over and said, ″Light blue, white, and gray with black streaks running over him. By the way, Bitch has those same black streaks.″

None of the members of the Undersiders asked what having black streaks in a person's aura meant. They all had a pretty good idea what it might be from what they knew about their teammates. So it was a quiet group that sat around waiting.

Finally, Lisa had had enough and asked, ″Taylor, how is your leg? Do we need to take you to a doctor?″

The brunette shook her head. Moving the blanket that had been placed over her leg, she exposed it to the view of the room. This time Alec leaned forward in fascination as he took in the gory sight.

To Lisa's experienced eye, Taylor's leg looked a good two inches longer than it had just hours before. Little tendrils continued to expand from it with glacial slowness, as blood vessels, bone, and other structures slowly formed.

Still, she winced when Taylor poked it, her gorge rising. The vigilante cape said, ″It looks like it might heal all the way. However, I'm getting incredibly hungry. I could go for several pizzas about now. I'm going to need a lot of calories to deal with this.″

Brian got up and said, ″I'll go pick something up. I'll be back in a few.″

Lisa noted the way Taylor's eyes followed Brian's retreating form. Then her attention was drawn by Alec asking, ″Doesn't it hurt at all?″

Taylor shook her head. ″No, not as long as I have on my Regeneration rings.″

Alec laughed. ″Ha! Yeah, Brian told me about your naming system. Kind of obvious, isn't it?″

The dangerous look that the brunette sent his way was more in play than serious this time so Lisa relaxed as she listened to Taylor's reply, ″Maybe. Then again, what would you call it?″

″Ring of Rejuvenation. Ring of Life. Ring of Growth. I'd call your sword the Sword of Domination, or the Sword of Retribution. And your 'flight stick' I'd called a Raptor. ″

Looking annoyed, Taylor asked, ″And I suppose you have a better name for my Regurgitation items as well?″

Alec shook his head. ″Nah, that one I like. It's to the point and kinda of disgusting.″

Lisa rolled her eyes at their byplay, then said, ″By the way, Taylor, your Flight Stick is downstairs.″

Ignoring Alec's sniggers at hearing the name, Taylor nodded. ″I know. I can feel it.″

Suddenly curious, but reluctant to risk another Thinker's headache by overusing her power, Lisa asked, ″How did you get it to follow you? Do you have some kind of link to it?″

Taylor's face took on a thoughtful expression. ″Yes, I do. I have a link to all of my items. But to tell you the truth, I have no idea. I've never been able to do that before except when I was awake.″

″Have you ever tried?″ Lisa asked.

From the expression on the other girl's face, she clearly hadn't. With a smile of anticipation on her face, Lisa suddenly decided that it was going to be fun helping the other girl figure out new uses for her power as well as its limits. Together, they were going to be a lot more dangerous than apart, of that she was absolutely sure.

As Lisa considered who she really needed protection against, that didn't seem like a bad idea at all.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Clarity Can Be Found

**Chapter Thirteen: Clarity Can Be Found Just Around the Corner From...**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor winced as her leg continued to act strangely as it slowly regenerated, muscles twitching and nerves firing as they formed and grew. Currently, it was hidden from view by a simple cotton blanket as the sight of her stump slowly growing out apparently made everyone present lose their appetites, well except for Alec, who found it fascinating. Even she had to admit it was a bit disgusting; the way everything from the bone on seemed to slowly move forward, filling in like some kind of stop motion photography.

If you took your eyes off of it for more than a few minutes at a time, when you looked back, it was bigger with more veins and other strange and nasty looking growths pushing out from the reddish-pink depths of her stump. To try to take her mind off of the situation, Taylor focused upon the people currently occupying the room with her.

First, there was Lisa. Taylor surreptitiously studied the know it all blonde, who was currently deep in conversation with Brian, their voices too muted to be audible from where she sat. The Parahuman Thinker, whose cape name Taylor now knew to be Tattletale, had an aura full of bright oranges and yellows, shades of the two colors that she'd come to associate with confidence and energy. Certainly Lisa had been energetic so far during the time they'd spent together. Her other strong colors were a similarly bright blue and glowing silver, which Taylor was certain were indicative of integrity and loyalty as well as certain kind of glamour and intellect. Part of that was likely in how she saw herself, while the rest were her actions and interactions with the world around her.

The only negative thing that Taylor saw in Lisa's aura was a faint grayish-green that she knew meant guilt, having seen and alleviated it from her dad. The blonde felt guilty about something that had happened in her life, likely something from her past as she seemed perfectly fine being a villain. Certainly talking about what she'd done hadn't elicited anything resembling guilt.

Oddly, she trusted Lisa, partially because of her aura and partially because of her actions in coming after her in order to help her. The blonde had felt compassion for Taylor when she'd felt so down after discovering the other knew who she was and had been utterly terrified because of that knowledge. Her compassion had been strongly enough felt that she'd overcome her own fear of the vigilante in order to give her a hug.

Whatever else Lisa was, she wasn't a monster. However, she made Taylor doubt herself, at least a little. Because if someone who was a villain would help others, then how much of a villain was she really? How much were others? That kind of doubt could be dangerous when acting as Carnelian, especially considering some of the monsters she'd already confronted.

The same held true for Brian. Taylor stared at him for a moment, then looked away with a faint blush staining her cheeks. The African-American boy with the tall, muscular build and the corn-rowed hair was physically attractive. Very much so. So was his aura.

Brian's aura was orange and purple, yellow and blue, all strong shades that meant he was courageous, and loyal, and filled with vitality. The boy's aura attracted her, nearly as much as his physical assets. Taylor was honestly confused as his aura seemed so at odds with who he was and what he did, being a member of the Undersiders and a thief and a villain. She still couldn't reconcile the two viewpoints or his earlier actions, which weren't those of a villain.

She'd first spotted him dragging a little boy out from under a broken desk, crying and bleeding. At the time, as Carnelian, Taylor hadn't really registered the gentleness he'd show the child, soothing his tears and getting him to a place where he could be helped. Now, thinking back on it, she could see that and so much more in the tenderness he'd shown the child.

That boy's injuries had been relatively superfluous, unlike so many others. Taylor had seen Brian encounter one of those and that bright aura had faded to a dull gray as sadness filled him. After that, she'd been too busy trying to heal children to notice him again.

Until, that is, she'd seen his bright aura, still edged faintly with gray, in the darkness coming to her rescue. Her frantic fear and anger had faded as she'd heard the muted sounds of hand to hand violence. Somehow Lisa had found her and the two of them had likely saved her life. If not from the low life scum who'd momentarily threatened it, then certainly from Lung and Oni Lee, who likely would have eventually shown up, looking for their teammate. She was under no misapprehension about being about to take either of them on while being chained to a glass appendage.

Now she owed her life to a pair of villains, as well as another debt for their aid, without which, she'd have been stuck with no food or place to heal up. It wasn't a situation that she liked as the two of them _were_ criminals. Even if they hadn't physically hurt anyone, at the very least they'd intimidated people, as well as taking police resources away from where they could help people through their actions. It was something that Taylor could not allow herself to forget, no matter the reason. Shaking her head, Taylor went back to her ponderings.

The third member of the Undersiders was Rachel. Bitch. Hellhound. Taylor had read what was available on PHO regarding the dog-based Parahuman several weeks ago. Rachel Lindt had killed someone or so the story had gone. Staring at the mad whirl of emotions the girl felt, she had a feeling that it wasn't that simple. Because while the dog-themed cape had that streak of black, it had been faint as to be almost non-existent.

It seemed unlikely that Rachel had intended to kill anyone, if kill them she had. Her aura was predominantly browns and greens, her emotions earthy and simple. Wrath colored her, but seemingly only as an afterthought. There was a yellow wash to her that spoke of unpredictability, but it was somewhat faint.

Mostly Rachel felt like someone who was damaged, although even she couldn't tell exactly how badly. Taylor didn't understand some of what she read from the other's aura, but it was far from normal. It was possible her power had messed her up, but equally possible it was the way she was raised in a series of foster homes.

That left Alec. Regent. The one about whom PHO had almost nothing to say. Taylor herself didn't have the faintest idea what his power was capable of. But since he pranced around wearing nothing but tight trousers, a ruffled shirt, and a mask, it could be anything from bending steel beams with his hands to shooting sugarplums out his butt.

Regardless of his power, there was his aura to consider. Whereas the streaks of black in Rachel's aura had been rudimentary, his was well-established. He'd killed with intention. At sometime in the past. At least that's how Taylor read it.

Then again, so had Sophia. The errant thought popped into Taylor's head, making she shake her head in irritation at the distraction. Returning to her original train of thought, she frowned as she thought about the boy being a killer. Plus his aura was filled with cold blues and whites that spoke of a lack of empathy, of feeling of any kind. To all intents and appearances, he was a nasty little sociopath.

But that handful of colors didn't tell the entire story. Taylor had watched him since in his interactions with his teammates. She'd seen flashes of hues that showed loyalty, ambition, and a kind of integrity. They were muted and intermittent, but maybe, just maybe, they meant he actually was a person. That he could be saved if that were something she even wanted to do. After all, in fairness, his aura was no worse than that of a handful of people Taylor had seen living relatively normal lives when she'd been out and about in the city. Then again, they could have been serial killers when not working or shopping. She wasn't a mind reader to know one way or another.

Taylor shook her head in bemusement. She needed to stop thinking she was some kind of super woman and that she could save everyone. It was likely that Alec didn't want to be 'saved' even assuming that she could. Of course, that's when Lisa sat down next to her and snagged a piece of pizza, joining her in slowly chewing the tasty food. With a grin, she asked, "So figure anything out about us?"

Taylor met Lisa's dancing eyes with a level glance, aware that the other had likely read something from her actions and expressions of the last few minutes. Hedging, she asked, "What do you mean?"

The other girl gestured expansively. "Well, you've been sitting here eating your way through several pizzas and thinking really hard. Plus, you've spent quite a bit of time staring at each of us in turn. I figure that you've been using your power to study us, what makes us tick. So I was wondering if you've come to any conclusions?"

Taylor slowly shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, I can see you. Your aura. It's every color of the rainbow. Everyone's is. But there are certain shades of colors that predominate. Those can tell me a lot about who you are."

The blonde Thinker stared Taylor in the eye, then slowly nodded in acknowledgment. In a challenging voice, she said, "Okay, do me." Lisa's grin dared the other girl to do her worst.

Not willing to allow the blonde to somehow one up her, Taylor decided to meet the challenge directly. In an even tone, she stated, "You're confident and full of energy. You feel loyalty to those who are loyal to you. You have integrity, but only to those things you think matter. Not money and goods, and the ownership thereof, but towards friendship and your teammates. You feel a lingering sense of guilt because you weren't able to help someone in your past, probably before you triggered. How was that?"

Lisa had gone pale with a dangerous suddenness, small circles of color suffusing her cheeks. The more Taylor had spoken, the more frozen her features had become. There was a fragile brittleness in her voice as she said, "Well, I asked for it, didn't I?"

Lisa blew out her breath explosively, then met Taylor's eyes with what was only a shadow of her earlier vivacity. "I now have a pretty good idea how people feel when I do that to them. To answer your last question, that was pretty damn close. I won't tell you just how close, but... close."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings," Taylor apologized, aware that she might have stepped over a line.

The blonde shook her head, now looking irritated. "I know that. I can do the same thing, you know. The difference is that I have to actively use my power to do it. Thus Thinker migraines. Your power is always on, isn't is? With no side effects."

"Pretty much. Everyone has an aura. It took me a while to figure out what all of the colors meant, but I eventually got there. Now, there's only a few colors I don't know, but sometimes the mixtures confuse me." Taylor wasn't sure she should be telling so much to someone who might still end up being an opponent, but then again, she had the feeling that Lisa wasn't going to be her enemy. Or maybe it was just a hope, she mused. Plus, she didn't think there was any way for someone to fake their aura to their own advantage even if they knew what she was capable of.

The blonde patted her hand. "I feel the same way." To Taylor's chagrined look, she laughed, on the surface completely recovered, only her aura giving lie to that outward impression as it revealed a lingering sadness and shock. In a tone of amusement, Lisa said, "I don't want to be your enemy, Taylor. Besides the fact that you scare the crap out of me when you go all Carnelian, I don't need any more enemies. What I could use is a friend."

She saw the manipulation in both the words and the blonde's aura as Lisa spoke. Still, the words were incredibly powerful, made more so because despite any intended manipulation, they were said with complete sincerity. There was no lie in the blonde's aura as her eyes steadily met Taylor's own. Shaking her head, the vigilante accused, "You're using your power to tell the truth."

"I know. Aren't I bad?"

Taylor returned Lisa's smile with one of her own, which was every bit as genuine as the blonde's. Then the other girl returned to her original line of questioning. "So, what do you think about the rest of the Undersiders?"

Taylor felt her eyes stealing towards the broad back of Brian, who was currently trying to interest Alec in some kind of hand to hand combat training. The blonde's smirk told her that she knew exactly how she felt about the handsome boy. She allowed just a hint of Wrath to touch her from a ring she still wore and her embarrassment fled. Lisa's eyes widened a bit as Taylor quietly said, "Brian is loyal and courageous. His aura is as human as any of the heroes I've met. He feels like a nice boy, which makes me wonder why he's here, being a villain. Because that's just not right."

There, that put a stop to the speculation in Lisa's eyes. Taylor continued, "There's something really wrong with Rachel. I've never seen emotions exactly like hers before on a person. She is... loyal. She also has a kind of earthy simplicity that is actually somewhat refreshing. She's been involved with death, though I'm not sure how much responsibility she bears.″ Taylor stopped there, not wanting to say that she both pitied the cape with the power over dogs and didn't think there was a way to help her. From the look in Lisa's eyes, she already suspected as much.

Now it was time for the clincher. Not sure exactly where to start, she stated his name, ″Alec..." Taylor hesitated, not knowing how it would go down to be deadly honest about the boy who she suspected was a borderline sociopath. And who had killed at least one person if she read him right.

"Yes, what about 'Alec'?" A voice to her right demanded.

Alec had apparently declined to be trained and had sat down on a chair next to the couch Taylor reclined on. He snagged a piece of pizza as he met Taylor's eyes, his own cool and secretive. He needled, "You were _so_ honest about the others, why not about me? You already told me I'm a psycho and beyond redemption."

Taylor winced, not needing to look to know that his smirk had widened. Still, she was who she was and wouldn't back down from any challenge. She met his eyes solidly before asking, "Who have you killed, Alec?" There, she thought in satisfaction, that should provoke a response.

Taylor's words wiped the smirk off of his face, as well as flooding his aura with red. Not gray, she noted. Guilt played no part in how he felt about what had happened. The act, and her words, made him furious, but he felt nothing like regret for the life he'd taken. And wasn't that interesting? As well as more than a little disgusting.

It also ignited a fire inside of Taylor that she was quick to suppress. As seriously fucked up as Alec was, she could ill afford to start something right then. Plus she wasn't sure how much responsibility a barely fifteen-year-old boy played in something that had happened to him in the past. For now she would focus only upon the fact that he was at least as messed as Rachel, if in different ways, although she considered the information on what he'd done fair game in their little exchange.

Alec's angry expression quickly faded and his smirk came back. "Are you afraid I'll kill you?"

He sat back with a frown at whatever he'd seen in her eyes, while Lisa grew very still at her side. Pushing her Wrath aside once again, Taylor reflectively said, "No, I'm really not. Even not knowing what you can do, I'm not afraid of you. Then again, I haven't felt much of anything resembling fear since I obtained my power. Anger, yes. Fury, definitely. Wrath that makes me want to paint this city red with the blood of its villains, absolutely. But fear? Not so much. That answer your question?"

His voice was clipped as he said, "Yes."

"Now answer mine. Who have you killed?"

It almost looked like Alec was going to tell her, if only to taunt her with the details, but then a deep voice stated, "You don't have to answer her, Alec."

Stepping up so that he loomed over where she sat on the couch, Brian stared down at her, his aura flaring with several shades of red and blue. Anger and protectiveness. In a hard voice, he said, "You owe us, Carnelian. We've done you several solids which you've acknowledged. That means no playing head games with my people. Got it?"

She pushed down the physical attraction she felt for the boy and carefully nodded. In a quiet tone, Taylor said, "I understand. But I wasn't playing head games. He can't ever get better unless he confronts what he did. Maybe feels a little regret instead of getting mad that someone brought it up. The question I asked knifed straight to the heart of the matter, but then again, sometimes you have to cut the rot out."

That little gem started several simultaneous conversations.

"What did you mean?"

"Are you fucking kidding me with this psych shit?"

"I don't see how this is meant to help anyone."

Taylor held up an imperious hand, and then pointed a finger at Alec. "The answer is, that I may, or may not, have been wrong about you. You're cold, but hardly unfeeling. You're loyal, at least to your teammates. You have a kind of integrity to you. Whether it extends beyond the most rudimentary sense, I'm not sure. Someone in your past fucked you up. Made you become cold and unfeeling as hell. Maybe I can help you with that. If I thought it would do any good."

Alec seemed to mull Taylor's words over, before saying, in a tone full of contempt, "What makes you think I want your help, bitch? That I need it? I get along just fine the way I am. What I don't need is-"

Taylor interrupted the boy, her tone challenging, "To feel? To be vulnerable? Maybe, maybe not. We both use something to protect ourselves from being hurt. You retreated into nonfeeling. I, on the other hand, have..."

Alec's dark eyes were filled with cynical anger and a desire to strike back as he asked, "You have what? Gone postal?"

Taylor laughed out loud. It was a gallows laugh, but present nonetheless. "Pretty much. I use Wrath to protect myself from feeling empathy when I break the bones of thugs and villains. When I maim, cripple, and kill them."

Taylor faced towards the boy directly, grimacing at the faint pang it sent through her still healing leg. "I'd still rather feel what I do than feel nothing. I think I can help you."

There was intense cynicism present in his eyes as Alec asked, "Why would you want to?"

Taylor slowly smiled, the first genuine smile that had graced her features since she'd been outed by Lisa. Reflectively, she mused aloud, "Because with what I'm currently doing, I'm walking a fine line between being a hero and being a monster. I've gone out of my way to save people because I feel that if I don't, all I'll ever be is another thug who destroys." She met Alec's eyes directly, smiling anew at the disbelief there. "Look, I get that you don't believe me. However, _if_ you let me help you, I will. Because that's what a hero does. And more than anything else in the world, I want to be a hero. That's something you can depend on."

Alec got to his feet. He turned to Taylor and with a sneer, said, "Fuck you, bitch." To his teammates, he stated, "Her future help had better be worth putting up with shit like this. I got enough of this kind of manipulative crap from before."

He then strode off towards his room, his face an indifferent mask, but he couldn't hide his aura from her. And weren't the colors in it so very interesting, she thought. Meeting first Lisa's eyes, which held a look of surprised calculation, then Brian's, who looked slightly confused, although his aura showed him to be at least emotionally ambivalent about what she'd said, Taylor wasn't sure about her next step with Alec. Maybe if she confided to him that she was pretty sure she'd killed Krieg, he'd open up. Then again, just as likely not.

Taylor flexed her leg slightly, biting back a curse at the pain still present. Still, she could tell her leg was significantly longer than before. Then her questing fingers dug futilely for another piece of pizza which was not present. Picking up the empty box and shaking it, she asked, "So who's going to get me another five pizzas.″ To the befuddled glances sent her way, she added, ″Please?"

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Danny drove through the streets, Kurt in the passenger seat. He'd been looking for Taylor for hours. Lacey was back at his house, waiting by the phone, in case his daughter called or showed up back there. But with darkness having fallen hours before, he was beginning to lose hope.

After all, there were so many dead. So many casualties of this latest cape fight. It made him sick to think of the many things that could have happened to his fifteen-year-old daughter in this disaster of a city, even if she hadn't been hurt or... Danny's mind shied away from even thinking of what might have happened to Taylor if she'd been too close to one of those bombs.

After all, one had gone off not that far from the Boardwalk where she'd been shopping. It had taken out a preschool, killing twenty-three people, seventeen of them children, and injuring another nineteen. The rest of the city was still reporting casualties, which had already reached more than thirty-one hundred killed and wounded. Danny's thoughts were interrupted by another report coming in over the radio.

"This is a News Channel Six Exclusive Report. It has been established that the source of the explosions that rocked Brockton Bay earlier today was the Parahuman Tinker, Bakuda, a member of the Asian Bad Boys. It was apparently directed towards creating a diversion so that the ABB's leader, Lung, could escape the custody of the PRT while he was being moved to the Baumann Parahuman Containment Facility. That escape attempt was successful. However-"

"Wait! I have just been handed a breaking news report. The PRT has stated that the Parahuman Tinker Bakuda is dead, an apparent victim of her own bombs. Her location is still being kept under wraps by the PRT, but they have indicated that it is definitely her body that has been discovered frozen in a time loop similar to the one she used to devastating effect upon several dozen pedestrians at the corner of Loop One and Central. Whether this was caused by a malfunction, which would be, frankly, poetic justice, or something else, we do not know at this time."

"To repeat-"

There was blessed silence as Kurt reached over and turned off the radio. In a careful voice, he said, "Danny, maybe you should go home. I mean, we've got over a dozen guys out right now looking for Taylor. You could man the fort-"

"No." The negative was emphatic and sharp, and Danny tried to force a smile onto his lips as he met the other's eyes briefly. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I know that you mean only the best, but I can't go home. Not... If I knew, maybe, but not knowing? I can't do it."

Danny felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder, then the other man squeezed down hard. Against all odds, he felt heartened. Plus he still didn't feel the slightest fatigue. So with a strong, if worried, heart, and steady hands and eyes, Danny Hebert continued to drive through the night. Searching for any sign of his daughter, Taylor.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Brian sat, nominally watching the silently flickering screen in front of him, but actually deep in thought. His teammates had retreated to their rooms, the last less than an hour ago. But he stayed here, on watch, although truthfully, he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do even if Carnelian broke their truce.

The Parahuman in question was asleep, still propped almost upright upon the couch pillows, her leg propped up before her on a pillow on top of one of the wooden kitchen chairs. Tayl- no, dammit! Carnelian made a odd little snorting noise, not quite a snore, but not exactly something that added to her fearsome image. Staring at her, now, in the uncertain light, her relaxed features made her look sweet and young, nothing like the monster he knew her to be.

Brian ran a hand over his cornrows, shuddering slightly as he remembered what the tall and slender young girl had done to Lung and Empire 88 just a short time ago. What he and Lisa had witnessed, crouched upon that dark roof, binoculars glued to their eyes as she had torn apart the best that the Nazis had to offer. Then she had gone toe to toe with Lung, only allowing him to live because of the presence of members of the Protectorate at the scene.

It had been a humbling experience. Oh sure, he'd always known that on any larger scale, he and the Undersiders were small fry. But observing that vicious battle had beaten it into his head in a way that none of the small confrontations that they had escaped from ever had. Even crippled, there wasn't the slightest doubt in his mind that if she decided to do so, she could take on and kill all of them.

Depending upon the good will, although perhaps restraint might be a better word, of someone else left a bitter taste in Brian's mouth. It spoke of weakness that he'd tried his best to leave behind a long time ago. When he'd triggered.

Brian had deliberately chosen a fearsome image to show to the world. By doing so, he'd put a lid upon his own fears. Now he knew that those fears were still there. Fear for his friends and teammates. Fear for his sister. Fear for his own survival. Fear for-

A quiet voice broke his train of thought. "Penny for them?"

Tay- Carnelian was looking at him, her expressive brown eyes shadowed in the dimly lit room. Her wide mouth was pursed in what he might have described as a pout upon anyone else. In answer, he merely shook his head.

But the girl wasn't deterred. In a deliberately chipper tone, she said, "Not worth it, huh? I get that. Sometimes, I don't believe my own thoughts. I-"

This time it was Brian who interrupted her. "We're not friends. I want you to understand that right now."

Taylo- Carnelian's eyes looked immensely sad as she lay there. She turned them away from him, staring at the silently flickering TV screen. Suddenly feeling guilty, Brian muttered, "Look, I'm not trying to be a dick. But you're dangerous. You have enemies that are just as dangerous. Even helping you this much makes us a target. If anyone were to find out-"

"They won't." Taylor turned her eyes back to him, all emotion wiped from them, as she cradled a slick gray stone ball in one hand. The sudden change in her emotional state was strange and almost alien. She continued, "I'll be gone as soon as my leg's healed. Lisa thinks that by five or six o'clock in the morning it will be completely healed. Then I'll leave."

Feeling suddenly unsure, Brian asked, "What did you just do? I mean, you were sad, then all of a sudden you're... that."

Now it was Carnelian who looked unsure. Placing the ball onto her armor where it seemed to meld into it, she said, "It's one of the things I can do. I take strong emotions and put them into things. It usually changes the item. This time I just put my... uh... emotion into something I had already made."

Brian silently whistled. He could definitely see how that would help in a fight if you could get rid of fear or doubt, or any of a dozen other crippling emotions that might prevent you from getting the job done. It also seemed like a really sad way to live your life, not allowing yourself to feel. It was only after he saw the look of growing fury on the face of the girl in front of him that Brian realized he'd just said that last part aloud.

Carnelian, rage suffusing her face, hissed, "You think you know enough about me to judge me? _Me?_ You know _nothing!_ "

Brian felt the blood draining from his face at the danger before him. Even crippled, Carnelian was terrifying. The look in her eyes was one of fury beyond comprehension as she snarled at him. Then with a cry of frustration, she clutched her hand. A look of sheer determination came over her face and it was like she was forcing something from her. Then with a faint sigh, Carnelian was gone and only Taylor remained.

Brian was genuinely concerned for the other's stability as he asked, "Are you okay? I didn't mean to..."

Taylor looked slightly sad as she met his eyes, but this time she didn't get rid of it. Instead she just shook her head. "It's not your fault. I should have taken this off earlier." With that said, she removed a ring from her hand and placed it upon her armor where it seemed to disappear. At Brian's curious look, she explained, "Ring of Wrath. Gives me a really kick ass ability. But there is an apparent side effect."

Brian wasn't surprised that she didn't explain the 'kick ass ability' further as they weren't exactly teammates. As to the side effect, he had an idea of what that might be. "Let me guess. It makes you quick to anger?"

A smile of faint amusement crept over Taylor's mouth. It looked good there, Brian decided. She answered his question a second later. "Yeah. Plus it's less anger, than full on volcanic rage. My most powerful weapons are based upon anger. I call it Wrath because it's not just anger. There's an element of judgment there."

"Knowledge?"

"More like old Testament. I 'judge' the people I fight. I would say I can't help it, but the truth is it's what I do. What I want to do. To make them as afraid as they've made so many others."

That was as bald a statement as any Brian had ever heard. Even his father hadn't been quite so blunt, even if the starkness in Taylor's voice was so similar to that which he'd heard so many times from the man who'd raised him with a heavy hand.

"Where does that leave us? We're not that bad, but we aren't exactly good. What will you do to us?"

As Brian spoke, he stared directly into the eyes of the girl in front of him, waiting for an answer to his very direct question. Because of that, he saw the faint dilation of Taylor's pupil's as she met his eyes. He was trying to figure out exactly what that meant when she answered him.

"The answer is, I don't know. I wish I could say that I'll never go after you, but you have to know that so long as you choose this path, there are no guarantees. Things happen. Escalation. Mistakes. Eventually, someone is likely going to get hurt during one of your burglaries or robberies. If that happens, I'll have to deal with you."

Brian slowly nodded. That was a more fair and honest answer than he'd expected. Taylor was different than he'd expected the mad woman who'd charged straight at Lung to be. Still frightening with the way her emotions seemed to be all over the place, but clearly not crazy. He tried to be honest as well, but some secrets weren't his to tell. "I understand. Look, we're just trying to make our way. I know that you can tell if someone lies, so let me just say this: None of us want to hurt anyone. Not Alec, not Rachel, and certainly not me. We just want to get by."

Taylor's smile grew crooked. "There are other ways."

"Really? What ways are those? Act as independent vigilantes and fight the gangs?″ Brian shook his head. ″Sounds like a death sentence to me. Join the Wards? None of us are Wards material. I mean, that psycho Shadow Stalker can kiss my ass if she thinks I'd ever join a group like hers. After what she did-"

Taylor suddenly interrupted him, her expression intent, as she asked, "What do you mean? About Shadow Stalker? Why call her a psycho?"

Brian hemmed and hawed a moment, but in the end saw nothing that could be used against him. He explained, "Shadow Stalker shot me with a real bolt earlier this year. I still have the scar. It pissed off Alec because I got blood all over our last couch, which was white." In a musing tone, Brian murmured, ″He really liked that couch.″

"Why would she do that?"

Taylor looked more than curious. Something dangerous was stirring behind her eyes. Brian almost decided to stop talking at what appeared another sign of emotional instability, but in the end, he found he was still pissed off enough about what had been done to him by someone who was supposed to be a hero to not care if she knew. Hell, maybe Carnelian would kicked Shadow Bitch's ass.

He shrugged before explaining, "Something to do with the way our powers interact. My darkness messes with her abilities. Drives her crazy. She calls me her nemesis. I thought it was just her being ridiculous until she shot me in the side with a barbed hunting bolt a couple of months ago. So I guess she actually was that upset about it. That was well after she'd already joined the Wards and was supposedly 'reformed'."

The eyes of the girl in front of him grew colder and more stormy the longer he spoke. Looking like she might explode, the slim brunette took a deep breath, then slowly released it. She did the same thing a couple more times, although she didn't look any calmer for having done it in the first place. Taylor finally grated, "She _is_ a psycho. Shadow Stalker is why I wouldn't recommend anyone joining the Wards. She..."

As the brunette's words trailed off, her teeth gritted together tightly enough to bite through nails, Brian felt his interest rise. Even more curious now than he'd been before, he gently prodded the brunette, "Hey, I told you mine, now tell me yours. It's only fair."

For a second, he got the impression that Taylor was in the middle of a major fight or flight emotional crisis. Fortunately, she neither attacked him nor tried to run. Finally, after a long pause, she gave a jerky nod and in a strained voice, explained, "Shadow Stalker is the girl who bullied me so badly in school that I had to leave to be home schooled. Her and a couple of others. They made the first year and a half of high school completely unbearable. They... they're responsible for my triggering."

Holy shit, he thought. Shadow Stalker was the cause of Taylor triggering? Talk about messed- Brian's thoughts ground to a halt as a sudden realization occurred. He blurted out, "You know who Shadow Stalker is, don't you? You _have_ to know. How on earth..."

Taylor vaguely waved into the air. "I saw my bully getting off a bus near downtown. I was spending the day at the public library down there so I could do some cape research. This was after I left school. She was heading off into downtown and I followed her. I lost her in a group of buildings there. After checking, I saw that it was the PRT headquarters."

"That's hardly conclusive. Maybe Lisa could make that jump, but you're not a Thinker, right?"

"Because I saw her in costume jumping over a gap in the buildings overhead. It was So- her. Dressed in her costume. Dressed as Shadow Stalker. That's how I know."

Mulling over the information for a moment, Brian finally saw the flaw in Taylor's story. It was significant, something she would have realized if she had been a Thinker. Still, he didn't want to antagonize the other, especially considering how she'd been reacting, so he kept his tone calm and nonjudgmental when he said, "But you couldn't know that was the girl who bullied you. She was in costume with her identity hidden. The only way that you would be able to tell if this girl was Shadow Stalker would be if you..."

Brian's voice trailed off as the girl in front of him gave him a scornful look, rolling her eyes in the way only a teenage girl could. Not liking where this was going, he stated, "You can see right through a cape's costume somehow. How-"

Taylor shook her head in denial. "I can't. But I _can_ see their auras, costume or not. Auras are like fingerprints, no two the same. When I've seen one more than once, it's easily recognizable. So, yes, I recognized the girl who bullied me as Shadow Stalker by her aura. Everything was the same. All of those red tones I'd seen before. The same black streaks. I recognized _everything_ about the bitch."

He was still trying to come to grips with just how important this was. Then he realized that as a relatively new cape, she probably didn't know just how potentially explosive the situation could become. Brian's tone was quietly urgent as he stated, "Taylor, you can't let people know you can do this. By that, I mean you can't _out_ anyone. I mean it. If anyone, heroes, villains, anyone in between finds out that you can recognize them easily in their civilian identities, _and_ are willing to use it against them to launch an attack upon them while out of costume, there is a good chance they'll come after you. You'd never be truly safe again. That's assuming that you survived the initial assault."

Brian was staring straight into Taylor's eyes, trying to force the girl to understand just how important this was. She slowly nodded, sending a sensation of relief through him, although why he should be so worried about a dangerous vigilante was beyond him.

Then they both jumped nearly out of their skin as a quiet voice spoke from the shadows, "He's right, you know."

Both Brian and Taylor turned to stare at the girl who took the opportunity to walk over and sit on the couch next to Taylor. Lisa's face was completely lacking her usual disturbing smile, which he counted as a blessing, as she looked back and forth between the two of them in careful consideration. She continued, "The one thing that heroes and villains would be able to agree upon besides the Endbringer truce would be how to deal with a Parahuman who has both the ability and the _willingness_ to so easily break the unwritten rules like that. Those rules are also there to protect the families of capes. That goes for you as well, Taylor. The rules protect your dad from being attacked because of the things _you_ do. Violate them and they might go after him. The Protectorate tends to react on the side of law, but capes considered too dangerous or unstable always seem to end up in the Birdcage and never in regular Parahuman jails. Do a search for Canary. Paige Macabee."

Lisa shrugged, then added, "Look just keep your knowledge to yourself. Do that, and it's just another ability that you can use as a back up if things get really dicey."

Surprisingly, Taylor didn't look frightened at all, her expression appearing rather more contemplative than anything else. In a tone of idle curiosity, she asked, "What are the unwritten rules?"

It was Lisa who answered that. "Villains and heroes don't escalate to killing each other. No rape. Don't try to find out each others civilian identities. Even if you do know their civilian identity, don't go after them there. Leave a cape's families alone. That sort of stuff. It keeps the whole thing relatively civilized. More like a game of cops and robbers than constant warfare."

Brian spoke when he saw from her expression that Taylor wasn't buying it, at least not completely, "Look, some of the crazies, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Nilbog, Bakuda, and a few others, they don't adhere to this. Then again, that's how you get a kill order put on your head. Otherwise, it's just business as usual."

There was a strange note in Taylor's voice as she asked, "What about the regular people?"

Brian and Lisa exchanged a cautious glance, before she tentatively asked, "What do you mean?"

There was something borderline dangerous in the brunette's voice as she asked, "Just where do regular people fit into this 'cop and robbers' scenario? Because I know that the ABB is involved in human trafficking. That the Merchants abduct kids and addict them to their drugs to increase their customer base. And Empire 88 beats and terrorizes anyone who doesn't fit their narrow definition of a person. I wouldn't call any of that 'civilized'."

Brian let Lisa take that one as he agreed with Taylor. The blonde nodded. ″I agree with you. It's not civilized. Not really. The thing is, civilized is just a word here. And it mostly refers to cape on cape violence, not anything aimed at civilians. But Taylor, if capes go at it hammer and tongs, civilians will suffer badly in the fall out. Battles like that have too much collateral damage. So take your pick, slow, relatively minor damage now, or more and far much worse damage later.″

The brunette gave her a skeptical glance. ″I'll take the more and worse. It's what I have been doing. Plus, if you take them out right away, there's no 'more and worse.' If the damn PRT could have handled Lung's security, he'd be in the Birdcage right now. Now, I'll have to take care of him as soon as I'm back on my feet.″

Brian didn't understand the look of consternation on Lisa's face as they listened to Taylor's words. But he knew that something was going on when he heard her say, ″But you'll take care of that other villain first, right? The one we talked about?″

He tried to catch Lisa's eye, but she ignored him, utterly focused on the girl in front of them, leaning forward as if to force an answer from the other through sheer will. Taylor's eyes were cool as they met Lisa's and something passed between them, something that Brian didn't understand. Finally, after a moment, the brunette gave a sharp nod. There was visible relief on Lisa's face as she slumped back against the back of the couch. Relief which she hid a moment later behind another grin.

It was clear that he was going to have to have another talk with Lisa. Something was going on. Something that she had set up with Tay- Carnelian. He blinked twice, rapidly.

It was time to be clear, Brian decided, on who exactly he was dealing with. Despite the girl being... he wasn't sure attractive was the right way to put it, but there was something about her that he liked. However, despite either that or the moments of seeming vulnerability displayed, she was still supremely dangerous. Her moments of emotional instability aside, he could not think of her as anything less than the person who had killed Hookwolf. To do otherwise could potentially put him and his team into a precarious position.

Getting up, he said his good nights, then headed for his room. Brian was at least satisfied that the girl wouldn't kill them in their sleep. Whatever else she would or wouldn't do, he was not so sure of. So he would get the favors he'd done her returned, then consider cutting ties with the vigilante. The relationship was a dangerous one and Brian frankly wasn't sure the protection she might afford outweighed the enemies she brought with her. Or the fact of who and what she was. He couldn't justify too many risks right now when he was so close to making things a reality with Aisha.

Still, if that were true, why was he having such a hard time maintaining his equanimity when it came to the girl in the other room?

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor shook her head at the blonde sitting next to her. ″You know that Brian suspects something now, right? You should have been more careful.″

There was a surprising amount of bitterness in Lisa's voice as she said, ″Well, pardon me for not taking the idea of ending up a drug-addled drone whose only purpose for existence is to be brought out to Think about someone else's issues, then stuck back in a dark hole, completely calmly.″

The two girls looked at one another until Taylor finally gave a grudging nod. In a clipped tone, she said, ″Fine.″

Lisa ran nervous fingers through her hair, looking the least self-possessed she had done since first finding out about Taylor's identity. She blurted out, ″Look, I'm sorry. I'm just freaking out. I'm terrified about going against Coil. I'm afraid that even you won't be able to beat him. That he'll still be out there, ready to put me in a cage.″

″He won't win.″

″But if he gets away-″

″Will it really matter if his base is in ruins, his army broken and routed, and everything he holds precious destroyed?″ As she spoke, the words seemed to fill the room with a sensation of roaring trumpets and burning fields.

Taylor decided she had allowed a bit too much Wrath to fill her while speaking as she took in the pale features of the girl beside her. She decided to give the other girl some of what she had given her. Taylor reached over and took Lisa's cold fingers in her own. Gently squeezing the girl's hand, she said in a reassuring tone, ″It's going to be fine, Lisa. I'll protect you. Just focus on finding out what the deal is with Coil's power. It might or might not be important, but information is never wasted.″

The blonde's aura lost most of its pale blue color as Taylor spoke. Slowly her brilliant oranges and other colors came back. Taylor deliberately hugged Lisa, squeezing her firmly, although she carefully avoided using her Brute abilities granted by the Might Bracer.

When she finally leaned back, Lisa looked much calmer, her aura almost back to normal. She also had a vaguely suspicious look on her face as she asked, ″Did you just manage me?″

Taylor shrugged. ″More like I helped you with your emotional health. You needed some reassurance and a hug. You did it for me earlier. I was just returning the favor.″

She almost missed the muttered, ″Yeah, that's exactly how it feels.″

The words drew a reluctant grin from Taylor as she remembered how Lisa had manipulated her in the store on the Boardwalk. It was a good feeling to be on the other side of that exchange.

Lisa suddenly sat up and exclaimed, ″Shit! I forgot to ask how your leg's doing. Is it better?″

Taylor flexed the muscles in her lower leg, marveling at the response from a limb that less than twenty-four hours ago had been missing from the knee down. In an almost clinical tone, she said, ″It's mostly grown back, but the muscle tone is still lacking. I think it will fill out completely, but we'll see. Even if I have to build it back up with running, it'll be fine.″

Lisa looked torn, then finally asked in a hesitant tone, ″Do you think you'll be able to do something about Coil soon?″

Taylor smiled, aware that even before her lips creased that it wasn't a nice one. Meeting the green eyes of her new ally, she asked, ″Is tomorrow night soon enough for you?″

At Lisa's jerky nod, Taylor said, ″Good. Now, tell me everything you know about the man named Coil. Where his base is. What his assets are. Who he might go to for support and aid. _Everything._ ″

With her eyes closed, Taylor listened carefully to every word out of the blonde's mouth. After several minutes, she held up a hand. Yes, she decided, it shouldn't be too hard to deal with Coil. A minor villain at best, his removal wouldn't affect Brockton Bay's crime statistics that much. But it would cement Lisa's loyalty to her, even if she wasn't one hundred percent sure that was something she wanted. Plus, there would be one less villain on the street. That could only be a good thing.

So tomorrow night, although she realized as she stared at the clock on the wall showing that it was around 4:00 AM, it was more like tonight, Taylor would deal with Coil. She would crush him and his base. End his threat to her city and to her... friend.

Anything else was unacceptable.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

 **AN:** Next chapter, Coil. And the Travelers, plus...


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Snakes and Villains a

**Chapter Fourteen: Snakes and Villains and Heroes, Oh My!**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Hannah walked into the hospital room, silently noting the room's other two occupants. The first was lying, apparently unconscious, on the hospital bed, his vitals monitored by a host of machines, including some that were registering his brainwaves, which showed as jagged lines on the readout.

The other loomed over him, his attention divided between the young man in the bed and the esoteric device he was using to scan him. After a while, he grunted and set the device down on the table next to the bed. That was when Hannah decided to speak.

″Has there been any improvement?″

Colin turned towards the sound of her voice and shook his head. ″No, Gallant's still showing such intense signs of emotional distress that we have to keep him deeply sedated. Even then, his brainwave pattern is oddly skewed as if he is experiencing a dreamlike state, which should be impossible under this level of sedation."

Hannah hesitated, then reached out a gentle hand toward her erstwhile boss to squeeze his tense shoulder. "Colin, you can't blame yourself. I don't care what a review finds. You were not at fault here."

His whisper was bitter, "Can't I? Who else could be to blame? I never should have left him there, even in a room adjacent to Carnelian's orb. We know so little about them; about _her_ that I shouldn't have taken the chance."

She quietly asked, "After review the footage, did Gallant show any signs of being mastered?"

Colin shook his head in frustration. "No, not really. Rather, call it an unhealthy fascination with the orb. After all, he could see its colors. Said it was a disgusting shade of yellow. No, he apparently leaned in to study it as closely as possible, and when the alarm went off, it startled him. He bumped the orb, knocking it out of the containment field. Then it must have gone off based upon his subsequent reaction."

"Do we know why it affected him so much worse than anyone else? After all, Lung, Kid Win, and Clockblocker were all hit with the same thing and recovered after a couple of hours with no apparent long term adverse effects."

Colin looked relieved to have something to distract his mind from the young man lying drugged and unconscious in the bed in front of them. "It could be Gallant's own empathic powers that make him more vulnerable to the effects. Or it could be that the orb Carnelian used on Lung was more powerful than the ones she used on the two Wards. That might explain how it was able to force this intense of an effect from him. Unfortunately, we just don't know. As always, I can't find any energy readings of any kind coming off of the orb. I have no idea how it works or what it really does."

"What about locating Carnelian? Any luck there?" Hannah already knew the answer, but if it took Colin's mind off of what possibly happen as a result of the incident, she didn't mind hearing his analysis.

Colin emphatically shook his head. "No. She's in the wind. We think she's alive, but after finding what we managed to identify as her leg in Bakuda's hideout, the severity and extent of her injuries is unknown. As is any recovery time she might require. For all we know, she was mostly turned to glass, but only her leg was left behind because it was fused with the floor. We might not see her for months, if ever again. Not that we'll stop looking."

Abruptly, he turned and started towards the door. "I'm accomplishing nothing here. I need to get back into costume and head back out there and see if I can locate her."

Hannah put up a hand to stop the other cape. Her voice gentle, she said, "Colin, you know with your suspension, you cannot go look for Carnelian. Don't throw away everything that you've accomplished over this. Why don't you go back to your lab and talk to Dragon to find out if there's anything she can do so far as locating Carnelian?"

For a moment, Colin looked absolutely furious, but that rapidly faded into what could only be described as a look of defeat. Finally, he gave a simple curt nod and left.

Hannah continued to watch Gallant sleep. So far, nothing had worked to free him from the influence of Carnelian's orb. They'd even brought in Panacea, who had indicated that his condition had something to do with his brain, a condition which she could not help with.

The decision had been made to keep him in the Protectorate HQ, if for no other reason that they did not know if the boy's condition was communicable. Most likely it was not, but they had to take every precaution. It was evident that Carnelian did possess some form of ability not dissimilar to a Master, which allowed her to affect the emotions of others. It was also possible that no one other than she could figure out a way to counter the effects of her own device.

If things didn't improve within the next day or so, Hannah was going to volunteer to undergo the effects of the orb herself, with Panacea on hand to monitor the exact physiological effect it had upon her body. If nothing else, it should eliminate the possibility that this orb was more powerful or otherwise different from the one she'd used on Clockblocker and Kid Win.

Hannah spent some additional time looking over Gallant's vital signs, but unfortunately, she learned nothing new despite her own level of medical knowledge. Not needing to sleep gave her a great deal of spare time and she spent it in different pursuits that for the most part aided in her career as a hero with the Protectorate. Studying medicine was just one of the things she spent her spare time on.

With a sigh, Hannah decided it was time to go out and look for Carnelian again. At least there she could provide some help. Plus, if she ever did find the woman, she really needed to talk to her. Hannah turned and walked towards the door, hesitating only once to take one final look at the boy lying in the bed. Then, filled with resolution to get something accomplished, she walked off.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor tentatively stood on her leg, slowly allowing her full weight to come down upon it. Fortunately, it held firm, although there was a weakness there that she would have to address at some point. Then again, she could feel her Regeneration rings still working on her leg at a deeper level than just the outside, which already appeared completely normal. Maybe it would take care of the lost muscle tone as well.

Lisa, her bright, green eyes politely inquisitive, asked, ″So how is it?″ Of course her aura belied the exterior she was showing the world, still faintly washed with a pale, bluish-gray that revealed just how worried she was that Taylor wouldn't be able to accomplish what she promised.

″It's good. Let me walk around a bit on it and see how it feels.″

Taylor did exactly that, carefully walking around the loft, more than a little amazed at just how good her leg felt now when half of it had been missing just the day before. The random impulses that had fired off while it grew, causing her to question the timeline she'd told Lisa, now appeared to be a thing of the past. Which was a good thing as- buzzz!

Muscles in her leg suddenly spasming, Taylor took a tumble, twisting her body to avoid the edge of the coffee table that her danger sense had already warned her of. Of course the earlier, unspecified warning was the thing that worried her. That was when she heard Lisa exclaim, ″Goddammit, Alec! Quit fucking around!″

Getting back to her feet, Taylor turned toward where the dark-haired youth stood by the bathroom door where he had obviously just come from a shower. Giving her a look of amused contempt, he walked back into his room, his towel-clad rump seeming to convey his contempt for her. His aura was filled with confusion and anger, something which Taylor could relate to as she was pretty damn angry herself at what couldn't quite be described as an attack, but nevertheless shook her up.

A moment later, Lisa grabbed her arm as if to help her back to her seat, but Taylor shook her off. She needed to walk on her leg, after all. She listened as Lisa babbled, ″Look, I'm sorry about Alec. He can be a bit of a dick sometimes and clearly he's still upset about last night.″

″Don't worry about it. I'm going to make a guess about Alec's power and I want you to say yes or no. Can you do that for me?″

Reluctantly, Lisa nodded. Taylor stated, ″Alec can cause random firing of nerves in limbs, as well as those of other autonomous muscles, causing people to miss, trip, and generally embarrass themselves. Is that about it?″

Lisa nodded again, but Taylor could tell the girl was lying from the way her aura flickered. Not a full lie, maybe, but there was something off. So likely Alec had another ability which the other girl wasn't telling about. Fine. She'd deal with it when she needed to and not before.

Taylor wasn't going to dwell on what had occurred. Instead, she needed to figure out exactly how she was going to get home and what she was going to do with the partial costume she was wearing. While she had her Flight Stick on the first level of the factory, flying it to her house in the daytime wasn't really an option. No, what she really needed was a change of clothes and a ride. She gave Lisa a speculative look.

Before Taylor could even open her mouth to ask, the blonde nodded. ″I'll give you a ride."

A voice spoke from the doorway of another bedroom. "I can take her home."

Brian stood there, looking buff and vaguely threatening in his costume, the skull on the front of his helmet only adding to the effect. Lisa huffed and rolled her eyes. "Can you take that off, please? And I'm taking her home, she doesn't want anyone else knowing where she lives."

Brian removed his helmet and mask, then said, "She knows where we live."

"Yes, but she's a hero."

Brian looked as if he was about to say something else, but Taylor, tired of being talked about in the third person, spoke up, "I don't care who takes me home. The problem is that I don't have any clothes."

Lisa grinned as she said, "I wouldn't say that. I wouldn't say that at all."

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

In the end, it was decided that Lisa would be the one who gave her a ride home after the other girl gave her address to Brian as a form of quid pro quo. She couldn't help grinning at the look on Taylor's face when she discovered that all of the clothes she'd bought at _Yvonne's_ were at the loft.

Frowning, Taylor said, "I thought you were busy trying to find Bakuda's lair and help me."

Blithely, Lisa stated, " _I_ was doing exactly that. Brian, on the other hand, needed something to keep him busy so he didn't bug me. So I sent him after our things, which he took care of right before I found where Bakuda was."

"Huh."

"Here, try this on." Lisa thrust a cute crop top in mauve and a pair of blue jeans at the taller girl, both items she had bul- err... _persuaded_ her into buying the day before.

Taylor looked them over, her weight shifting from foot to foot as if her leg still pained her. When she still didn't move, Lisa asked, "What's wrong? Don't like the color?"

Seemingly aware of Brian's presence in the room, Taylor quietly whispered, "I don't have any clean underwear."

Rolling her eyes, Lisa went and grabbed a pair of panties from her own bedroom. "There you go. I'm afraid you're going to have to wear your bra again or go without as mine won't even come close to fitting you."

Taylor went into the bathroom with an affronted look upon her face, one which Lisa would have needed her power to figure out whether it was the comment about going braless or being too flat chested to be able to fill her own bra's cups, that had triggered it. A moment later the shower started up.

Brian, who had finished making coffee, handed Lisa a cup while drinking his own. He quietly commented, "You know that you and I still need to talk about last night. You practically begged Carnelian to go after that villain. Who were you wanting to see targeted?"

Lisa debated lying to the erstwhile leader of her team, but in the end, decided to tell the truth as Brian didn't know that Coil was their secret benefactor. Tersely, she said, "It's Coil. He's a bigger threat than his public persona indicates, especially to me."

"A threat, how?"

"To the world? Coil wants power and will do whatever it takes to get it. To me? I think he wants to drug me, stick me in a room somewhere, and force me to use my power for him."

Brian looked angry and horrified at the her words. "Dammit, Lisa! Why didn't you tell me? I could have-"

"You could have what? I'm sorry, but none of us have the kind of offensive powers that would be needed to deal with someone like Coil. I mean, he's got dozens of mercenaries working for him with Tinkertech weapons, not something we want to mess around with."

The expression on Brian's face was a combination of anger and stubbornness. "You should have told me if for no other reason than because we're teammate's. What might be a danger to you could also be a danger to all of us. Understand me?"

Lisa nodded guiltily. "I understand. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Brian nodded back grudgingly. "Okay. I'll let it go this time. But you can't keeping doing shit like this. I mean it."

In the bathroom, the sounds of the shower faded. A few minutes later, a very different Taylor Hebert emerged from within its depths. Gone was the damaged monotone costume. In its place, she wore tight blue jeans that hugged her long slender legs and a crop top that showed off what little bosom the other girl had, as well as exposing about six inches of her flat, toned midriff.

With her long, curly hair hanging down her back, still damp from the shower, Taylor looked both younger and cuter than she did when wearing her costume. There was also a vulnerability about her now that had hadn't been present before. Lisa didn't need her power to see Brian's attention momentarily sharpen, only for him to deliberately turn away in order to ignore her.

Standing there looking awkward, Taylor asked, "Lisa, do you have a pair of shoes I can borrow?"

Suppressing a pang of envy at the other girl's slim form, one that would likely stay that way for her entire life, Lisa sniped, "No, but you do. Remember, you got those flats for free when you bought those things from _Yvonne's_?"

Taylor took the pair of flats Lisa handed her with a muttered, "Thanks."

The next few minutes were filled with Taylor organizing her gear and putting it aboard her flying thing while Lisa scanned the internet and PHO forums to see if anyone had posted videos of yesterday's events. Especially any videos of Taylor unmasked.

Almost immediately, she saw something of interest. Reading the entries, Lisa couldn't help the grin that creased her lips, something that Brain apparently noticed as he asked, "What's going on?"

Trying to look innocent, Lisa said, "Nothing. Well, nothing about us. Taylor, on the other hand..."

The girl in question looked apprehensive as she paused in packing up her stuff. "What about me?"

"Someone filmed part of the preschool rescue. Don't worry, though, it was started after you changed into your costume. The video shows Carnelian saving kids. Then healing them afterward. Guess what, Taylor? You're a hero!"

There was a brittle sharpness to Taylor's tone as she asked, "And it doesn't show my face? My identity?"

Lisa shook her head. "Nope. The video's poster even states in the post that he didn't think to start filming until he saw you dressed and knew that there was a Parahuman present helping with the rescue. Before that, he was too busy shifting rubble and searching for survivors with the others. Plus, they're suppressing speculation on your identity on PHO. No physical descriptions allowed, along with no guesses as to your age, etc."

Both Taylor and Brian looked relieved at that. In an amused tone, Lisa continued, "It's funny how the posts on your thread have done a complete one eighty as regards your status as a benefit to the city. They're even blaming the Protectorate and PRT for losing Lung after you 'heroically' managed to capture him in the first place."

For a moment, Taylor looked like she was about to weigh in with what she thought about that same subject, but in the end, just shook her head sharply. Instead, she said, "Let's go. I'm sure my dad is freaking out about now."

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

As it turned out, Taylor's words were prophetic. When she and Lisa finally got to her house about nine am, it was surrounded by pick up trucks, all of the nearby parking up and down the street completely taken up. The trucks, most of which weren't exactly new, looked like the kind that the men who worked with her dad down at the Dockworker's Union typically drove, large and festooned with tool boxes and other oddments.

Parking almost a block away, Taylor led Lisa towards her house. When she was still a couple of houses away, they began seeing a large cluster of men in her front yard. Conscious of all of the stares that she was receiving walking along in her new top and jeans, she wished for the umpteenth time that day that her stomach at least was completely covered.

Resisting the urge to futilely tug at the bottom of her crop top, Taylor still jumped when a nearby voice bellowed, "Yo, Danny! She's back!"

Taylor was momentarily the center of attention, all eyes upon her, then her dad came racing out of the house and split the attention somewhat. The man who ran towards her at a dead sprint looked nothing like the calm, collected figure of her dad. Danny Hebert had an almost manic gleam in his eyes as he literally engulfed her in a huge hug, almost squeezing the life out of her. Momentarily, Taylor wished for her bracer so that she could better weather the storm of her dad's relief. Then she just hugged him back as hard as she could, her awareness of all of the stares fading somewhat in the background.

Around them, shouts and questions were tossed back and forth, many of them aimed at the her and her dad, while what seemed like a veritable forest of hands slapped the two of them on the back. Taylor just stood, huddled in her dad's arms, while she tried to ignore the frantic activity surrounding her. That was when Lisa chose to act.

The blonde girl put two fingers into her mouth and blew a whistle so loud and piercing that it drew admiring stares from many of the men present. In the resulting silence, Lisa said, "As you can see, Taylor's okay. She spent the night with me when she was knocked out by one of the bombs that went off. And that's all I'm going to say until I talk with her dad, so you're all just going to have to wait to find out the rest of the story later from him."

There was well over a score of relieved chuckles from the men around them as Taylor mouthed her thanks to Lisa. Of course, then it was the blonde's turn to be on the receiving end of one of her dad's hugs, which from the shock on her face, she had not been expecting. Nor whatever he whispered in her ear as he held her.

When Danny finally released Lisa, her aura belied the calm visage with which she faced the crowd. Taylor decided she would wait until another time to ask her just why she felt so incredibly sad. For now, she would focus on her dad. And the size of the search party that he had apparently organized from his friends and co-workers.

When Danny started thanking people for showing up, Taylor joined him, beginning with those she recognized, like Kurt and Lacey, as well as another one of her dad's friends, Kevin Nelson. As she shook everyone's hands, Taylor got a lot more back pats and sympathetic comments from her dad's older friends and co-workers. The looks she was on the receiving end from some of the younger guys, made her self-conscious again, as male eyes lingered upon her exposed stomach, derrière, and even her scant bosom, making her even more aware of the out of character outfit she wore.

Taylor was also incredibly self-conscious of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra as she'd decided that putting back on the one that smelled of smoke and burning chemicals wasn't an option. With her lack of assets, she figured it wouldn't be a big deal, as the top's material was thick enough to be opaque and not to show anything beyond her shape. But when she was surrounded by several young men, many of whose auras had tinged towards a deep pink that spoke of physical attraction, that one small fact made her nervous enough to start to trigger her anger.

Fortunately, Taylor wasn't wearing any of her Wrath rings, so she was able to tamp down her emotions and get through the next few minutes. Then it was just she, her dad, and Lisa standing there as trucks began to roar away.

From the expression on his face, Danny had a lot of questions, but he waited, waving, until the last truck headed off into the distance. Then he turned to Lisa and said, "Won't you come in? I'd like to hear exactly what happened as well as thank you again."

Taylor couldn't help the feeling of nervousness that filled her at the thought of her dad and the teenage super-villain interacting. But since she had no obvious reason to object, she followed the other two into the house.

A few minutes later they were all seated in the living room with cups of hot tea in front of them. Danny and Taylor sat on the couch and she couldn't help but notice that her dad seemed reluctant to let her get too far away from him, sticking with her throughout the ritual of making the tea and now sitting alongside her. Hopefully, that wouldn't continue throughout the day and evening, or she find it more than a little bit difficult to deal with Coil. Her attention was brought back to the present as she registered a question her dad asked Lisa.

"So, Lisa, how did the two of you meet?"

"Oh, Mr Hebert, we were both at _Yvonne's_ shopping and I noticed Taylor looking at the full price stuff with a look of disbelief on her face. I walked over and told her about the clearance stuff, a lot of which is ninety percent off, and dragged her over. Then I helped her pick some stuff out."

Danny have Taylor a sidelong glance. "Yes. I noticed that what Taylor's wearing isn't her usual choice in outfits."

Lisa held up a hand. "Guilty as charged. I pushed her into buying stuff that would look good on her. I hope I didn't violate any rules about what she's allowed to wear?"

Her dad waved it off. "No, no. I'm glad to see Taylor blossoming a bit. She's been in a shell for quite a while, now."

Rolling her eyes, Taylor said, "You know, I'm sitting right here."

Lisa grinned. "Yes, but it's so much fun to talk about you as if you aren't."

Her dad, on the other hand, ruffled her hair, drawing a quick "Hey!" from Taylor. He apologized, "Sorry, kiddo. Just relieved that you're okay. Also, a bit curious to tell the truth. You haven't exactly had a lot of friends the last several months."

Avoiding Lisa's curious gaze, Taylor said, "I know, Dad. That's going to change, though. Even if I'm not in school anymore it doesn't mean I can't hang out with kids my own age."

Danny nodded. "I agree. By the way, Lisa, thanks again for taking care of Taylor. What exactly happened? I mean, I heard what you said outside, but that couldn't have been all of the story."

In a reflective tone, Lisa said, "No, Mr Hebert, but I figured you'd want to decide what parts get told to your friends. I met Taylor in Yvonne's and we kind of hit it off after I showed her the clearance stuff. Then I spent some time helping her find outfits that would actually look good on her. Because she's tall and slim she needs clothes that aren't too loose, but she was going for all of the wrong things. Afterwards, I was going to give her a ride home. We were carrying our bags to the car when we heard this series of booming sounds. Neither one of us knew what it was. Now I know they were explosions, of course. But at the time..."

She shrugged, then continued, "Anyway, the last explosion was close. We were walking by the preschool when it blew up. Nothing hit me, although I got knocked on my butt. Taylor, on the other hand, got hit by something which knocked her out. I managed to call a friend to help me with her and we got her into my car. I was going to take her to the hospital, but we heard over the radio that the hospitals were full to overflowing because of all of the casualties so the waits there were going to be crazy long if you got to see anyone at all."

Taylor marveled at the way the blonde girl could lie. The only clue that she had that the other girl was wasn't telling the truth were the shifts in her aura. Otherwise, she never would have known that a lot of the story she'd just told was almost completely made up.

Lisa finished explaining by saying, "Anyway, my friend is training to be an EMT so he checked her out. He said it looked minor so we put to bed at my apartment. I would have called you but Taylor didn't have a cell phone on her and I didn't have know who to call."

Danny looked regretful. "That's my fault. I should have gotten her a cell phone before this. Texting was involved in my wife's death, so I've been very down on cell phones for a long time. That's going to change, though. Thank you so much, Lisa, for looking after my daughter. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Lisa nodded. "I will, Mr Hebert."

"Please call me, Danny, Lisa. By the way, are you still in school right now? I mean, you don't look old enough to have graduated."

Lisa shrugged. "I've got my GED. School was too boring for me to stand it."

Tentatively, Danny suggested, "If you need a job, I could probably help you with that. I've heard that it can be a challenge sometimes finding work with only a GED."

"I'm good. I actually work from home. I invest online. You'd be surprised how well you can do if you're careful and do your research."

Her dad looked impressed at that. Oddly, it impressed Taylor as well as she could tell Lisa wasn't lying about doing exactly that. Of course, she was probably investing her own ill gotten gains, but still.

Just then the phone rang. Taylor watched her dad answer it and get into a spirited discussion with whoever was on the other end of the line. After a bit he set the receiver down and walked back over to stand next to her.

Danny glanced at his watch and sighed, an expression of mixed exasperation and regret on his face. "Kiddo, I'm going to have to leave. I really need to get back to work. I took off early yesterday and haven't gone in yet today. With yesterday's events, the city is going to need the help of the Dockworker's Union to rebuild. So I'm going to be spending the next few days doing contract negotiations. Basically working my butt off. Can I ask you for a big favor, Lisa?"

The blonde seemed to already know what her dad was going to ask, then again, with her power, that actually made sense. "Danny, would you like me to spend some time with Taylor today and the rest of the week?"

Looking relieved, Danny nodded. "Yes, if you wouldn't mind. Taylor, that's okay with you, isn't it?"

Was it okay with her? Taylor wasn't a hundred percent sure one way or the other. After all, she did have to repair her armor. Did she want Lisa around when she did so? They weren't enemies, but rather tentative allies. However, giving the blonde Thinker that kind of insight into what she did might not be the best thing. On the other hand, she might be helpful.

Aware that she was getting looks from two different people the longer the silence went on, Taylor finally said, "Sure, Dad, that's fine. If you want to stay here, Lisa..."

Apparently Lisa was unable to read her thoughts since she nodded. "I'll stay."

"Great. I'll see you for dinner, Taylor. If you want, you can eat with us, Lisa. Bye now."

With that, her dad left in a hurry, clearly feeling the urgency of all of those contracts. When he was gone, Lisa turned to Taylor a curious expression on her face. "Am I crazy or is your dad wearing one of your rings?"

Taylor gave a grudging nod. "Yes. I gave him a Regeneration ring once I knew how to make them."

There was a look of almost disbelief on Lisa's face. "Let me get this straight. You gave your dad an item that what, gives him perfect health and heals any injury?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Besides the fact that you gave your dad a powerful and desirable Parahuman-created healing item? There's at least one other person in Brockton Bay who can see the aura that your items give off."

Who? Then like a light turning on, Taylor breathed, "Gallant? I knew he gave off blasts that altered emotions, but I didn't realize he could see the emotions of people. Are you sure?"

Lisa looked contemplative. "I was there when you fought Empire 88 and Lung. So was Gallant. He was freaking out. He could see what you were doing and the stuff you were using and it made him crazy."

"How could you tell?"

Taylor almost smiled at the droll look that Lisa sent her way. "It only took seeing him for a moment to do a read on his using my ability. Trust me, he was so freaking out."

"That means he can probably see the color of my dad's ring, though."

Lisa shrugged and nodded. "Yep. I get that you were trying to help your dad, but I don't get why you just didn't fix something on his bed to do the same thing, like his pillow or something. That way, he wouldn't need to wear... oh, that's funny. You didn't think of that, did you?"

Feeling a bit disgruntled, Taylor muttered, "No, I didn't."

Truthfully, she wasn't even sure she could do something like that, but there was no real reason she couldn't put health and regeneration into any item, worn or not. She gnawed on her lower lip a moment, then became aware that Lisa was giving her a speculative look.

"What?"

"How hard is it to make one of those rings, anyway?"

"Why?"

The blonde girl shrugged, looking supremely unconcerned. Her aura, however, believed both her appearance and words as she said, "Oh, it just seems like it would be useful is all. I could pay you to make me one of those. Although, actually, I'm surprised that you didn't consider selling them to the Protectorate. They pay _really_ big money for items that heal."

"The only problem is that without being in somewhat close contact with me at least once a day, the ring takes a week to charge if it's depleted."

Lisa looked momentarily chagrined, then thoughtful. "That wouldn't matter if you and I were teammates."

Taylor shook her head. "I don't know about that, Lisa. I do get that you and the others aren't that bad, but like I told Brian, eventually I see a confrontation happening between the Undersiders and me. I can't see myself joining you."

"I wasn't talking about you joining the Undersiders. I was talking about my joining you."

Taylor's jaw dropped in astonishment. "What?"

Lisa's grin was predatory as she said, "It would be perfect. I don't really need money at the moment, but if I did, we could just seize drug money from one of the gangs. I could be a huge help to you in analyzing your power. I mean, do you even know how you made something like that torc? Yeah, I didn't think so."

As she considered just how bullshit Lisa's power really was, Taylor realized that the blonde had her there. Because she really didn't understand how she made her more complex items. Could Lisa really help her with that? More importantly, why would she?

Aware that the girl in question was watching her carefully, and could probably read her like an open book, Taylor decided to shelve the idea for now. "Look, Lisa, I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. As for now, let's see it."

"See what?"

"You making a new pair of armored pants and boots to replace the ones that got ruined by Bakuda. I want to watch. Come on!"

She followed, bemused, as Lisa easily headed up to her room, correctly finding the right one without asking. The blonde girl sat down on Taylor's bed and gave her an expectant look, making her groan.

"Fine. Let me get some of my old, worn out jeans. And a pair of old boots."

Fortunately, Taylor had both sets of items ready as she had expected to have to replace her armor pieces at some point. While she was digging them out of the back of her closet, Lisa kept up a running monologue of questions and statements.

"So it doesn't matter what quality an item is before you make it, does it? It changes to suit you. Do you have to know exactly how to make the item to actually make it or does your power fill in what you want? So you can make things that you don't even know how you made them. Do-"

Taylor held up a peremptory hand. "Stop. Just... stop. You're distracting me. And it's hard enough to make things even when I don't have a chatterbox going on in my ear."

Lisa looked like she was about to ask something else, but visibly held herself back. After a moment, she asked, "I take it that it isn't as easy as it would seem to imbue emotions into an item?"

Thankful that the blonde wasn't going to supply the answer as soon as she asked the question, Taylor nodded. "Of course it is. Just so long as what I want to make is a Wrath item. Then I just get mad and zip! It's created."

Lips pursed in a silent whistle, Lisa asked, "How do you make something, then?"

Taylor hedged, "Well..."

"Might as well tell me. If I'm going to help you, you need to trust me at least that much. I won't tell the others."

"I focus on positive emotions, love, protectiveness, safety, respect. I push those emotions into an item. Which I fail at quite a lot. That's pretty much it."

Taylor picked up a pair of boots in her hands and was slowly trying to get her head into the mindset she needed to make protective armor when Lisa touched her arm. "I have a suggestion. Can your armor be more than just protection?"

"I don't actually know. It's all I've made up to this point."

Lisa nodded. Lips pursed, she suggested, "What about if you made your boots so that they also made you faster."

Feeling a bit confused, not something which she wanted to feel when attempting to make replacement armor, Taylor asked, "Run faster? I mean, now that I've got my Flight Stick I don't see how that would be all that big of a help."

"No. Although I can think of several scenarios where being able to run fast would be helpful. What I mean is to move faster. Like a speedster, moving through the world faster than normal. Experiencing it in slow motion."

Taylor just stared at the other girl, feeling a bit lost at what Lisa was talking about. The blonde girl took in her expression and said, "Okay, let me explain it in a different way. Do you remember getting hit by Lung when you fought him?"

"Of course. He almost wrecked my armor with one hit."

"Your danger sensing necklace was working, though, right? You saw the hit coming, didn't you?"

Taylor nodded. "Of course I did. I just couldn't get out of the way fast enough... oh."

"Exactly. Can you add that to a pair of boots that you make for yourself? Pure speed."

"I don't know. It might be easier to just make another ring with that ability."

Lisa gave Taylor a significant look. "I don't think your power has as many limitations as you think. I don't think you have to use rings for the effects, for example. I suspect you can put more than one effect on something, especially when they complimentary."

"Complimentary?"

"Yes. Being armored and fast are both protective effects. They keep you safe. Try to use the same emotions for both and see if it works. Okay, I'm going to be quiet now."

True to her word, Lisa shut up and sat there watching as Taylor got herself ready. But ready to do what? Could she actually make something like what Lisa was describing?

It sounded complex. Then again, was it any more complicated than her necklace? The idea that you could use emotions to make a necklace that sensed danger and gave warnings was absurd on the surface. But she had done it. Could she do something similar with a pair of boots that gave her not just heightened reflexes, but the ability to move through the world at a speed several times that of a ordinary human?

Maybe. But if she didn't at least try, that was the route to certain failure. Taylor took a deep breath, then another. Each time she breathed in, she breathed out just a little bit slower. Muscle by muscle, she allowed herself to relax, all the time visualizing what she wanted. It felt like the most difficult thing she had ever done, yet at the same time, something that shouldn't be.

Refusing to fall into the pattern of self-reflection, instead Taylor remembered safety, the feeling of her Dad's arms around her. She remembered how he had always done his best to keep his daughter safe from the dangers of a decaying city.

At the same time, she allowed a sliver of fear to slowly worm its way into her mind. Fear that had its basis in not being able to move fast enough to escape a blow. Although, when Lung had hit her, knocking her through the air where she lost her sword, Taylor hadn't been exactly afraid. Was fear even right for this?

There _had_ been just the briefest moment of panic when she had been knocked on her ass, but it hadn't involved fear for her physical self, for her own safety. No, it was as if all that she needed to accomplish would be rendered moot by her death. It was a sensation of futility, that the differences she'd made in her city up to that point would cease, slowly decaying back into the indifference and fatalism that filled so many of its residents. That her city had an inertia associated with it, keeping it in a pattern where nothing good and decent could ever triumph.

Some part of Taylor was conscious that her breathing had quickened, now coming in frantic gasps. This was her city. Her world. It didn't belong to those who dwelt in the shadows, with their messages of hate and contempt. Those shadow dwellers believed that might and cruelty ruled. That decency was a weakness to be taken advantage of as you ruthlessly used those weaker than you however you chose.

Her desire to incorporate fear fell away as it was replaced by stronger, deeper, more heartfelt emotions. Taylor felt something like desperation fill her, mixed with hope and anger and love, as well as so many other emotions that she lost track. There was a world out there that needed saving and it was her that would save it.

The emotions Taylor felt were starting to hurt like a dull, gnawing toothache that felt like it would never go away. They were twisting inside of her like a highly charged live wire, whipping around her mind and soul, filling her to overflowing with _feeling_. She had to get them out of her! Somehow, she _pushed_ those emotions away from her, although for the first time, she felt resistance.

Sweat beading her brow at a struggle that had nothing to do with the physical, Taylor somehow managed to overcome the resistance she felt and thrust all of her feelings and emotions into the objects she held in her hands making them _change._

Opening her eyes, Taylor stared at what had been old leather boots just a moment before. She felt a dull astonishment. Meeting Lisa's gaze, she expected to see an equal amount of astonishment there. Instead, what she saw was fear, quickly hidden, but no person could hide what they were truly feeling from her. Why was Lisa so afraid?

Conscious of the overlay of pale blue over the blonde's aura, Taylor asked, "So what do you think? Like them?"

The boots she held up were no longer made of leather, old and cracked. Nor were they composed of the strange gray substance that had marked all of Taylor's items up to this point. No, instead, these boots were gleaming and bright, composed of something that glowed an almost iridescent silver.

Of course, that was just how they appeared to her physical senses. The boot's aura was composed of so many colors they seemed almost like a rainbow. Every change in position of the boots changed the aura that met Taylor's eyes. One moment blue dominated. Another purple and red were equally present. Then they gleamed as silver to her senses as they did to her physical eyes. There was a strange orderliness to the changes as if she'd tapped into some higher level of consciousness when making them that now somehow eluded her.

Closing her eyes for a moment to escape the overwhelming cascade of colors, Taylor quietly asked, "Why are you afraid, Lisa?"

"Shit. Of course you saw that. I honestly don't know why I bother to try to hide it unless I'm worried I'll get out of practice with everyone else."

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Fuck! Yes. Give me a second."

There was a brief silence and Taylor opened her eyes. Lisa's fear had mostly faded, but it was still present, like a ghostly overlay of the brilliant primary colors she usually sported. Shaking her head, Lisa muttered, "I don't know how I get into these situations."

Sitting up straight, Lisa seemed to gird her loins. "Look, I'm not afraid of you. Not really. But what I just saw? It doesn't make _sense_ to me."

"Huh?"

The blonde got up and began to pace the length of Taylor's room. "I mean, my power, it can't figure out what you're doing. I get the strangest sensation, almost as if what you're doing is the antithesis to regular Parahuman powers. Which is stupid because you _are_ a Parahuman. I guess it just go to show that there is no figuring out powers. Not really."

Taylor hesitated a second, then asked, "Are you saying that your Thinker power can't analyze my powers? Not at all?"

Lisa shook her head. "Not beyond the most obvious. I mean, when I see you do something with an item, I can figure out what that item does based upon the effect. That's how I figured out that your torc held a danger sense. But I couldn't tell jack shit from watching you make those boots. Instead, I got confusion and the weirdest sensation of danger. It's like there's no answer that will ever make sense. Freaky, huh?"

Taylor nodded, silently agreeing. It was a little freaky that someone who appeared to be a pretty highly ranked Thinker was stymied by her powers. Then she saw the obvious flaw in Lisa's reasoning. "But you're the one who pointed out to me that I could do more with my power than I have been. If you can't figure out my power, then how were you able to figure that out?"

"Because I wasn't reading your power when I said that. I was reading _you_. At least subconsciously, you know that there's more you can do with your ability."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I know. Like I said, freaky. Oh well, fuck it. Do the boots do what you meant for them to do? Also, why are they silver? Was that intentional?"

Before Taylor could even decide which, if any, of the questions she wanted to answer, Lisa shrugged and said, "Fine, I'll shut up for now, but I'm eventually going to want to know that and more."

Feeling self-conscious, Taylor kicked off her flats and slid the boots onto her slim feet. Like all of her items, they fit perfectly. She stood up, relieved that she felt perfectly balanced. That's when Lisa grabbed a snow globe from her bureau and threw it as hard as she could at Taylor's head.

Her danger sense fired off instantly, and then, almost as quickly, the glass orb seemed to slow down, allowing Taylor more than enough time to move. Then realizing that if she moved out of the way completely, it would smash against her bedroom wall, scattering glass all over the place, Taylor moved just enough that it wouldn't hit her. Then she held up a hand and easily caught the glass ornament as it went by.

Then the world was moving at a normal speed and Taylor was shaking her stinging palm as she gave Lisa an angry look. Wonder of wonders, the other girl didn't looked worried at all, the fear having faded from her aura completely. Instead there was a curiosity so intense that she thought the girl might explode if it wasn't assuaged.

Lisa burbled, "Okay, that was utterly cool. I knew it wasn't going to hit you, but you caught it like it was nothing. Huge increase in speed."

Her annoyance momentarily took a back seat to her curiosity, prompting Taylor to ask, "How much of one? Could you tell?"

"Oh yeah. About fifteen times normal. That's fantastic. I mean, you're not going to be catching bullets or outrunning Velocity, but you can forget almost any other Parahuman out there being able to put a hand on you. That's for sure."

Impulsively, Taylor said, "Thanks, Lisa, I really appreciate it."

There was something almost tentative about the smile that the blonde girl gave her. Then it dissolved into another of her trademark grins as she said, "I was just making sure that you're in shape to take care of Coil tonight."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it was."

Of course, now all Taylor had to do was make a pair of pants and she would be ready for Coil. She wondered if the other Parahuman knew she was coming for him. If he had some kind of weird Thinker power like precognition, he just might. Of course, knowing she was coming and being able to do something about it were two different things.

Grabbing an old pair of holey jeans, Taylor set out to make a replacement for her armor pants. After all, she was going to need them. Tonight, Coil would be going down and she would be one step closer to a villain-free Brockton Bay.

Facing her bedroom mirror, Taylor allowed just a hint of Wrath to fill herself as she considered that idea. She almost didn't recognize the figure standing in front of her with the hard-edged smile that would not have looked out of place on the face of a villain. She glanced over at Lisa as she considered that.

From her expression, Lisa apparently agreed. It took a moment, but slowly the hard smile on the face of Taylor's reflection faded to be replaced with one of pure joy. It was odd, but if anything, Lisa looked even more nervous at the change. With a sigh, Taylor refocused with her attention on the task at hand, namely using her emotions in order to make the last piece of gear she would need for tonight. After that, it would be time to deal with Coil.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Coil carefully made his way into his base in one timeline, whereas in the other, Thomas Calvert headed over to the PRT HQ to do some consultant work. In both timelines, he breathed a sigh of relief that his life was no longer in the hands of fate; rather, he was safe from all but the most catastrophic events in widely disparate locations.

Which was exactly why his first stop was to visit his pet. Opening the door to her room, he waited as the slim figure untangled herself from the blankets of her bed and stood. Rubbing an eye with her fist, she plaintively asked, "Candy?"

"Soon, pet. But first, I need to ask you some questions."

"Already? I thought I just had dinner."

"No, pet. You had dinner hours ago. It's time for breakfast, now. But first, six questions."

The girl shook her head. "Three."

Coil shook his head. "How about five? Or no candy at all. Understand?"

Looking apprehensive, the girl nodded, while Coil began to speak, "You know the questions that I want answered."

"Point zero one five six that there are any problems in the next hour. Three point two one four three that there are any problems before lunchtime. Four point six one seven nine that there are any problems before six pm."

The girl stopped talking at that point, looking frightened. Coil had almost collapsed the other timeline at the soothing information that the day appeared to be uneventful, but now he hesitated. "Pet, what about this evening?"

Shivering in fear, the girl stammered, "One hundred percent chance that there is going to be an attack tonight."

Attack? Who would dare to attack him? Who would _know_ to attack him here? Coil started to open his mouth to ask his pet about who it could be but then stopped as he realized she was close to her limit. Instead, he dropped the timeline and sat safe in his office within the PRT.

So he would need to split multiple times in order to be able to work out the who and what was happening tonight. So he split the timeline again. In one, he left his office and made his excuses of an emergency. There he traveled quickly back to his base to find out what was going to happen. In the other, he sat in his office and worked on the problem before him.

Arriving at his base, he made his way without greeting anyone to where his pet lay. Waking her up, he dragged her to her feet and preemptively asked, "What are the chances that the group attacking us tonight are from the Protectorate?"

Shivering, the girl said, "Zero point zero one two one that the Protectorate is attacking."

"What chance that the group is Empire 88?"

"Zero point zero zero one one."

"Chance that Lung is behind the attack?"

"Zero point zero zero zero six."

Getting frustrated as he wasn't any closer to learning the identity of the attacker, Coil spoke sharply, "Chances that..."

He stopped as he suddenly realized exactly who it could be, although how could she know about his base? "Chances that Carnelian is the one who is going to attack me tonight?"

"Ninety-nine point nine nine six seven percent that Carnelian will attack here tonight."

Suppressing a visceral shiver, Coil discarded the timeline, then began again. "What are the odds that the attack from Carnelian tonight will fail?"

Plaintively, the girl asked, "Can I get some candy after I answer?"

Almost, Coil knocked his pet to the ground and stomped her. Somehow he managed to suppress such an emotional reaction to his frustration and instead spoke in a soothing voice, "After three more answers. Now my question."

"Forty-one point one six seven four percent that the attack from Carnelian will fail."

"What if I put my men and the Travelers on alert?"

"Twelve point seven nine four four percent that the attack from Carnelian will fail."

Coil frowned. Why would it go down so drastically if he alerted his people? Carefully, he asked, "What if I bring the Undersiders in to help defend the base?"

"Four point seven one nine three percent that the attack will fail."

Seven splits of the timeline later, Coil had a grasp on what was happening. His Tattletale had turned on him, as had the rest of the Undersiders. He still didn't know why the odds of the attack failing went down to much if he alerted the Travelers and his men, but it did. So he wouldn't. Instead, he would make sure he wasn't around.

Instead, he would be monitoring the situation remotely. If everything else failed, he would bring the building down on Carnelian. Of course, his pet had already indicated that would not succeed in killing her. But it would be eminently satisfying.

Oh so very satisfying.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor rode astride her Flight Stick, already halfway to her target, her passenger on board behind her. Around her, the night seemed vibrantly alive. The lights of the city seemed extra bright tonight, lighting the night with special intensity. She could hear the sound of the wind rushing around her figure, even if she couldn't feel it on her skin. It made her want to yank off her costume and ride with just her regular clothes as fast as he Flight Stick could go.

Did she feel this way because of the success she'd had on her boots? Maybe. Taylor still wasn't one hundred percent sure exactly what she'd done differently on them to make them a new color.

Everything she had made up until today had shared one color, a simple dark gray with a texture like slick stone. Even for _those_ items that had felt another way, it was most likely only in her mind that the sick, greasy feeling truly existed.

But today, Taylor had made boots that weren't gray, instead an iridescent silver color. Bright and beautiful, she wasn't really sure they went with the rest of her costume, but there was no way she was not going to wear them. Partially because of the effect they granted, but mostly because they were beautiful in a way none of the rest of her items were. Certainly, they fitted into her costume as seamlessly as the originals.

Of course, they were physically beautiful, shining and brilliant, but it was their aura that so entranced Taylor. How had she managed the orderliness from which they were composed? What twist of fate had allowed her to not only imbue yet another effect into an item, but somehow make that item's aura so perfect?

If she could just crack the code of how she'd made the boots, Taylor knew that there was no limit to what she could make. What she could accomplish. Filled with visions of making Brockton Bay into a shining city as if from some miraculous future, Taylor felt her heart stir as a rare sensation of joy filled her.

With a sigh, she discarded that vision to focus upon the much uglier present. She needed to be ready for tonight. She needed to be filled with true Wrath as she had no idea of the amount or quality of the resistance she'd face. Lisa had mentioned mercenaries armed with Tinkertech weapons, but there might be other Parahumans as well.

Taylor gnawed her lower lip wondering if she should have waited and planned more before her attack. She and Lisa had discussed exactly that earlier. But in the end, they'd decided that with Coil's way of somehow knowing what was happening, waiting would be a mistake. The faster she attacked, the better the odds of her winning a fight against an unprepared foe. After all, who knew when Lisa would be captured, filled with drugs, and forced to use her ability just for Coil?

With a delicate precision, Taylor reached out to the first of twenty toe rings and twenty-eight finger and thumb rings that she wore that were imbued with Wrath. For a moment when planning this, she had almost left the majority behind. But Lisa had warned her not to underestimate Coil, that he was far more dangerous than his accomplishments so far suggested. So instead, she had filled her fingers and toes with as many rings as she could safely fit, two per toe and three per all but two of her fingers.

Feeling almost like a drug addict who had been on the wagon, Taylor prepared herself to receive the enormous influx of Wrath. More than anything, she needed it, not just for the power, but for the confidence it would bring. After all, filled with Wrath, it seemed like she could do anything.

If she were to accomplish her mission, she just might need all of the Wrath that she could bring to the table. With a sense that she was throwing herself into the abyss, Taylor carefully allowed the Wrath of each and every item she carried beneath her armor to fill her until she felt like she was about to burst with it.

Taylor's grin was suddenly razor sharp, pitiless and cruel. The world's colors dropped away, to be replaced with a strange crimson overlay. She felt like there was nothing that she could not accomplish as a surge of exquisite heat heat and confidence filled her.

Roaring to a stop outside the door that marked her enemy's abode, Carnelian hesitated only the barest moment to allow her passenger to disembark before hurling herself forward. Tonight, Coil would pay in fear and pain for his misuse of her city. Tonight, Coil would pay in _spades._

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

 **AN:** Sorry, guys, but I ran out of space for the actual fight. I really wanted Taylor to at least get into Coil's base and go face to face with the Travelers. But them's the breaks. Next time, I promise. Really.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Tactics of Mistake

**Chapter Fifteen: Tactics of Mistake**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Carnelian struck the first set of doors with a blow from a pair of Wrath rings on one hand, while at the same time using the strength from her bracer to hammer it with her shield. Inch thick steel ripped and tore like paper as the doors crumpled away from her. The flare of brilliant crimson that resulted felt good and her rings seemed to fill instantly as she tapped into that bottomless well of rage within herself. She used another ring on a nearby camera.

The world moved so much slower now, and Carnelian felt like she had all of the time in the world to deal with enemies. For enemies they were, always destined to clash with her, if for no other reason than their insatiable lust for power over those she protected. She would rain death and destruction upon them until the world bled her signature color, until nothing else existed.

For a moment, she almost headed like a bullet down the enticingly straight corridor that lay ahead of her, but she remembered the words of the girl, Lisa. 'It's a trap' echoed in her mind, and she hesitated, just for a second, before turning to her left less than fifteen feet inside.

Another crimson flash and Carnelian headed through the hole in the concrete and rebar into another passage that was hidden. The passage Lisa had known about, but couldn't find the even more carefully hidden door in time to be of help. This passage would be untrapped for most of its length, then she would have to burst back through to the regular passageway just before entering the base proper. That was where she would find her enemies.

With a smile to freeze blood, Carnelian began her attack.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Krouse grinned as he shook the Yahtzee container and tossed the dice down. "Take that, bitches!" he chortled as four sixes came up.

Opposite him, Marissa rolled her eyes while next to her, Luke shot him the finger. Then Krouse picked up the one dice and rerolled it. A five, huh. He was about to roll it again, when there was a boom like thunder in the distance and the sound of blaring sirens suddenly filled the room.

 **Ooooooooooaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!**

Over the cacophony, Krouse yelled, "What the fuck's going on? Anybody know?"

Luke looked worried. "No idea! Maybe it's a real attack?"

Shit! Krouse grabbed Oliver and shouted, "Get to Noelle and reassure her that we have this under control! Stay in contact over your communicator!"

Then he gestured to Marissa, Luke, and Jess. Leaning in close so he didn't have to shout, he said, "Get changed into your costumes. I'll find out what's happening. Jess, try to get to sleep. We're probably going to need you."

"I'll try, Krouse."

"Good girl."

With that, Krouse grabbed his mask and top hat and headed out. He was the only one in costume and since they'd been playing in his quarters, he would need to buy a few minutes before the others would be ready.

In the main room outside, it was controlled chaos as troops ran hither and yon, some manning weapon emplacements, while others took cover behind designed hard sites, Tinkertech weapons at the ready. Krouse grabbed the nearest soldier and yelled, "What's going on?"

The mercenary, his face colored by equal parts excitement and fear, yelled back, "It's an attack! We think it's Carnelian! We're not one hundred percent certain, but the camera operator claims to have seen her before the display went dark."

Krouse felt the blood drain from his face at the thought of facing the crazy vigilante. If things went as he feared, they might actually need Noelle to help, an idea that worried him almost as much as facing Carnelian. He needed to talk to Coil to see if there was any way to get out of here without having to take her on.

"Where's Coil?"

The mercenary shrugged, then shouted over the siren, "No idea! He's not here, never came in this morning! Look, I gotta get to my post! Carnelian should be here in less than a minute and this is our best spot to stop her!"

Krouse let the man go, his mind focused upon the idea that Coil had never come in. He was aware of the man's precog, having been part of the operation that had managed the girl's kidnapping. What exactly it meant, he wasn't completely sure, but he had the sinking feeling that they had been played.

He grabbed another trooper running by and yelled, "Where's the little girl that the boss is holding? I need to get her to safety!"

The man yelled back while shrugging off Krouse's hand, "Haven't you heard? She was ordered moved earlier! She's at an undisclosed location! Get to cover! Carnelian's about to hit the main doors! She'll be here in seconds!"

Krouse was still considering just what that meant when he was joined by Marissa and Luke. Sundancer and Ballistic, he automatically corrected himself. Have to use code names when in costume. That had been one of their first rules. Aloud, he said, "Sundancer, Ballistic, it looks like the attack is coming from Carnelian. We'll try to hold her here."

Ballistic looked as horrified as Krouse felt. "What the fuck! You know facing that lunatic is not part of the deal we made with Coil! Where the fuck is that asshole?"

Leaning in close, Krouse hissed, "Save it for later. Coil's gone. The girl's gone. It's just us. Understand?"

Comprehension flooded the features of his two teammates. Ballistic cursed, "That son of a bitch! Fuck!"

Sundancer, on the other hand, looked very subdued. "What are we going to do, Krouse?"

Almost, he yelled at Sundancer for her slip, but he'd subconsciously done the same earlier. Instead, he said, "Ballistic, Sundancer. As far as how we're going to hand this, we have to stop Carnelian. If the chance comes up for us to get away, we'll take it. Unfortunately, one of our members isn't the most mobile and Noelle..."

Krouse shrugged as his teammates nodded in understanding of just how difficult it was to move Noelle these days, especially with her requirements. The chances of they being able to safely move their last teammate were slim to nil. No, they needed to make a successful stand here or risk being captured or killed. Visions of the city from which they'd barely escaped danced before his eyes. They couldn't allow themselves to be returned there. No matter what they had to do to prevent it.

That was when the distant thunder that they'd heard was right next to them as the door of the room's main entrance, at right angles to them, suddenly blew inward, pieces tumbling to land almost at their feet. A figure aboard an odd flying device floated through to be met with more than a score of blue-white beams from Tinkertech weapons as well as a hail of gunfire, but somehow she dodged it all, twisting and rolling in all three dimensions.

How the fuck was she doing that, Krouse wondered? Carnelian moved so damn fast and erratically that no one had a chance to tag her. He watched in disbelief as every beam and bullet missed completely. When the first round of attacks all failed, there was the briefest pause. Then, with a scream of inarticulate range, she was among the mercenaries, sword swinging homicidally.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched blood paint the walls. Like a touchstone, Krouse patted the communicator in the pocket of his costume. He suspected that they would need it before all of this was done. Regardless it was time to do his part. With a glance at Ballistic, who nodded back, he switched him for Carnelian while Sundancer brought up one of her burning suns. They could do this. They had to.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

As soon as Carnelian cleared the door into the immense room, she was attacked. Only by a cat's whisker did she avoid several of the blazing white beams, which looked powerful enough to possibly harm her even through her armor. But the combination of her increased speed, coupled with her danger sense, made avoiding all of them doable, if only just barely. Then she took the fight to them, dealing with finality with a couple of mercenaries. A second later, with a suddenness that was startlingly, she was standing next to a figure in black costume and a red mask and top hat with a Baron Samedi vibe, while before her, she saw another cape astride her Flight Stick.

Turning, Carnelian swung her sword directly at the cape who stood next to her and whose seething aura sickened her, only to find herself back aboard her Flight Stick, her danger sense screaming. She ducked just as a concrete projectile, jagged pieces of rebar sticking out, blew through the space her head had been occupying a split second before.

The strange teleportation was repeated a couple more times, each time just as disorienting as the first, while the beams of her other foes got closer with each trip. Knowing she needed to change tactics, she waited until the next teleportation, one that put her alongside something that looked like a miniature sun, the brilliant light filling her eyes, only just dimmed enough to still see by her helmet's visor. Even through her suit, Carnelian felt the heat of the blazing orb.

It would not be defeated by her sword, she decided. But she had more weapons than just the physical, Carnelian thought viciously. She spun away from the ball of fire. With a flex of her will, a dozen small spheres flew free from her waist, landing among her foes.

The Regurgitation and Wrath grenades went off just as Carnelian reappeared upon her Flight Stick. Unfortunately, she also reappeared directly into the path of a white hot beam of energy that hammered into her hastily interposed shield. Fortunately, it deflected the energy, at least for the split second until she flew out of the beam's path. But there were more burning white beams, all aimed at her.

Her danger sense screaming, Carnelian twisted, although she still felt heat wash across her upper back. That was _enough_! With a scream of utter rage, she launched another two dozen glowing spheres from her Flight Stick, seeing them land among the troops. Even as they hit, she used her link to immediately detonate them, engulfing most of the room in the effects. She watched with satisfaction as bodies flew or collapsed, receiving no protection from her grenades' effects just because of the various barricades behind which they hid.

Carnelian flew a lightning fast circuit of the room, noting that the male cape in the red top hat, the girl in the black form fitting armor with the red suns, and the man in the bulky black armor and square mask were all down. As were all but two of the troops opposing her. Those she was just about to deal with when a large figure pushed its way into the room through a set of double doors in the wall opposite her.

Long and sinuous, what could only be described as a dragon was now within the room with her. Icy eyes followed the creature's sinuous movements as it finished entering the room, only to launch itself skyward after her.

Carnelian turned on a dime, aiming herself directly at it, her sword held point first towards the beast. Then she had to duck as some substance, apparently quite caustic based upon the effect it had on the surrounding concrete, was spewed her way. Rolling over to ride her Flight Stick upside down, she flew beneath it, simultaneously swinging her sword at the beast's lower legs, taking them off neatly from the knees on down. Unfortunately, it did not appear to deter the creature as it spun and spewed at her back even as she righted herself.

Spinning and rolling in three dimensions to also avoid a beam from one of the two remaining troopers, Carnelian felt pure rage fill her. She was being delayed far too long. Even if Coil were present in the base, he would have had time to escape. Now she was not going to be able to stop him. All because of these cursed fools!

Satisfaction filled her as she impaled one of the troopers all the way through the center of his body, his blackened aura fading along with his life. As she kicked him off her blade, the flying beast almost scored with another spit of acid. With a scream that was filled with an almost mindless rage, Carnelian launched herself directly at the dragon, sword swinging furiously.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Krouse lay on the ground, groaning in agony as white hot pain lanced through his lower back. Something was broken there, something important, and he couldn't feel his legs anymore. How the fuck things had gone so badly he couldn't understand. Playing them over in his head as he lay dying seemed contrived, but he had nothing else to do.

It had seemed for a while like they had Carnelian on the run. Between the mercenaries all firing at her, his constant switching of her with his teammates, and the various traps they laid for her using both Sundancer's miniature sun, as well as the objects Ballistic fired at her, she seemed both off balance and hapless.

The fight had changed direction so rapidly that he hadn't really been able to see exactly what happened. The last time he'd switched her with Ballistic, small balls had shot out from her costume. Balls, which had done _something_ as soon as he switched her once more.

Krouse hadn't seen anything happen, but he had felt something like an immense hand pick him up and hammer him into the concrete of the wall behind him. He'd lost consciousness for just a moment. When he came to, he was lying half upright against one corner of the room.

A dozen feet away, both Ballistic and Sundancer lay sprawled, helplessly vomiting, spasms wracking their bodies even as nothing seemed to be coming up. In the air above him, Genesis' dragon was being carved to pieces and would soon be gone completely.

As Krouse watched, Carnelian swung low and removed half of the last mercenary's weapon as well as his hands, leaving him standing there screaming in horror. That was when he knew what he had to do. Cursing the weakness he felt, Krouse dug his right hand into the waistband of his costume, seeking the hidden pocket. He groaned in agony as something shifted, a feeling like broken glass coming from his back.

Finally, though, he found it. Raising the communicator to his lips, Krouse pushed the button and spoke, "Oliver. Can you hear me, Oliver?"

A tinny voice sounded from the communicator's speaker, "I hear you, uh... Trickster. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Krouse started to answer, then a coughing fit temporarily derailed him. It took nearly a minute to pass, during which time Carnelian had destroyed Genesis' creation. Now landed, she was already prowling towards him. Feeling the urgency, Krouse used the last of his strength to shout into the communicator, "Oliver, tell Noel we need her! We need her now! Carnelian's killing us!"

Even as the faceless mask of his nemesis bent down towards him, Krouse couldn't help the smile of satisfaction that pulled up the corners of his mouth. Take that, you bitch, he thought in bitter satisfaction. Take that and di-

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Carnelian gave the body of the man in the red top hat one final glance, then turned away. He was clearly dead, the foul twisted colors filling his aura already fading away. She needed to get to searching the rest of Coil's base, especially since there was no sign of him here in the main room. With a last glance at the other two capes who would be all right once the effects of her Regurgitation grenade wore off, she swung a leg astride her Flight Stick.

"Roaaaarrrrr!"

A sound of insane rage sounded from the next room, something that sent a shiver of response through Carnelian. A second later a loud gonging sound filled the room as something hammered into the immense vault door on the west wall, opposite of where she stood. As Carnelian watched, the thick steel dented as something sought to tear its way through them.

Eyes narrowed, she could tell that the doors would never hold. Knowing that she might need them, Carnelian used the time before the doors failed to gather up as many of her grenades as she could.

Carnelian managed to pick up about two thirds of the grenades she'd expended when, with a ripping sound that combined the worst parts of a jackhammer with a wood chipper, magnified a hundred times times, the steel of the door finally surrendered to its foe. As several feet of steel crashed to the room's floor, something huge and misshapen pushed its way through.

She allowed crimson to once again haze the picture before her as a huge creature of unknown origin pushed through the opening. Atop a vast tube of visible gristle, bone, and muscle, barely held aloft by stubby legs that looked far too small for it's bulk, sat the slim upper torso of a girl. Upon its body, huge mouths snapped ferociously, each roaring their own rage, while the torso atop screamed just one name, over and over again.

"Krouse! Krouse! Krouse!"

For a single heartbeat Wrath failed her, and Taylor stared at the gargantuan monstrosity that was moving towards her. Then she filled herself from the bottomless well that resided somewhere deep within her. A moment later, Carnelian shot like a cannon towards the vast Parahuman, her own screams of rage resounding within the room.

At that moment, it would have been difficult to tell which scream belonged to which figure. When they met, Carnelian was hurled aside as if she'd attempted to derail a freight train, and smashed against the far wall of the room, leaving only one being still screaming. Stunned by the impact, she watched as the monster moved rapidly to the small group of Parahumans who were unconscious or dead. A familiar feeling of wrath filling her, she grabbed her sword from where it had fallen when she collided with the other. Considering attacking anew, she hesitated momentarily, watching the creature through angry eyes.

Stopping by the one who still wore his top hat, the creature used the atrophied arms of her huge body to first pull him closer to her, then lift his body from the ground until the human torso above could interact with it. The monstrosity's screams faded to be replaced by a crooning sound. The tenderness and love upon the face of the horror looked strange and alien, perhaps even more so than the appearance of its body. "Krouse, Krouse, what has she done to you? Oh my love. I'll take care of you now. You'll be a part of me forever. You'll all be a part of me."

Carnelian felt her gorge rise as the monster devoured the body of the man she'd professed to love, feeding him into one of her body's huge mouths. Then she did the same to her supposed teammates. Pulling the sword free from her back, she knew that she was going to have to use lethal force to stop this thing. Although maybe if she used a Regurgitation gre-

Her train of thought was utterly derailed as the mouths of the creature's body spat out huge globs of foul smelling liquid filled with chunks. Carnelian got a look at some of the 'chunks' and saw that they were actually familiar looking figures. As they staggered to their feet, shock filled her at the sight of misshapen clones of the Parahumans that the creature had earlier swallowed. Or at least clones of two of them.

Top hat man was missing, but the girl who made the brilliant orb and the man who'd launched projectiles at her were present. Their red and black costumes were mostly missing; what was present looking more like it was a part of their skin than material. All of the clones' bodies looked strange; some oddly misshapen, while others looked either tall and elongated or squashed and squat. As she read their auras, their appearance grew even more monstrous, each and every one of them a remorseless killer.

Carnelian realized as she remounted her Flight Stick that there were nearly twenty clones in the group facing her, some of whom seemed to possess far different abilities than their originals. The female clones exhibited odd powers, ranging from one that was forming an ebony ball with black tendrils wafting off of it, to another that was surrounded by floating balls of brilliant pink plasma. Others had less visible, but equally strange things happening around them.

The male figures seemingly possessed similar disparities in their abilities. Pieces of concrete were rising into the air around one. Another waved a hand and Carnelian felt her Flight Stick almost being pulled from beneath her. It took an act of will to force it to hover in place against the alien pull.

Despite the rage that filled her, crimson still clouding her vision, Carnelian hesitated. She'd promised... someone that she would bury her anger if necessary. The numbers in front of her did not dismay her. But she did recognize that they might be a fight she could not win.

There was also her monstrous opponent, one that was so strong it had torn through several feet of solid steel. It seemed able to duplicate any Parahuman. If the creature could do this to the ones she'd devoured, then Carnelian, herself, might also be mere grist for the mill if she were captured.

Still, Carnelian stared with longing at her foes, wanting to destroy them all. But if she failed... She needed to clear her mind. Carnelian shuddered as she forced all of her wrath away into one of rings, its glow permanently strengthened.

Taylor stared at the creature who stood between her and the safety of the far corridor, feeling as if she'd awakened from a strange dream. She'd been so incredibly angry, Wrath filling her until she'd nearly gone mad with the sensation. Maybe it had been a bad idea to embrace so much of the crimson emotion, although it had carried her through to victory thus far.

Of course, now she was facing something that was as utterly terrifying as it was completely disgusting. Something that had already brushed her aside as if she didn't exist. Hopefully, she could reason with it instead of having to fight it. Because the creature wasn't alone any longer. The sheer number of opponents, many with unknown versions of the original's powers, made her wonder if she would survive, let alone win.

Raising her voice in a confident shout, Taylor announced, "I have no issue with you. Stay out of my way and I won't have to hurt you."

The mostly human torso that sat atop the enormous body turned her way, its face wild with fury. "You! You did this! You killed Krouse! Hurt my friends! What makes you think I'll let you go? I'm going to kill you! All of you, kill her! _Kill her!_ "

Every one of the clones turned Taylor's way. She was just about to launch herself at them, maybe even fill herself with enough Wrath to fight them all, when a premonition struck, one so intense it stole the breath from her lungs.

Taylor took off like a shot, her Flight Stick accelerating to its full speed of more than three hundred miles per hour in a couple of seconds. Caught off guard, her opponents missed the attacks they sent her way, orbs and objects just falling short. Taylor blew past the monster's reaching tongues and down the corridor from which she'd emerged earlier.

Unfortunately, at the velocity she was going, Taylor could not make the turn into the safe corridor even with her augmented speed. So, instead, she flew down the trapped one, her danger sense screaming over and over again. Explosions, deadfalls, as well as several other attacks just missed, the edges of many of them buffeting her. Within seconds, there was a series of thumps followed by rumbling sound that came from above her.

Taylor could see the blown apart door which she'd earlier used to enter just ahead of her. She would be there in just seconds. Her danger sense screamed once more in her head and she knew there was no more time. Taylor slammed her Flight Stick into the corridor's floor sending her tumbling across the smooth concrete flooring even as its ceiling came down and hit her. Everything went black.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Hannah stared at the collapsed building surrounded by dozens of rescue vehicles, their strobing lights filling the darkness. It was the Richmond Insurance Building that had been brought down, thankfully not during business hours when it would have been occupied by more than two thousand people.

Instead, only a dozen people had been inside when collapsed, mostly cleaning staff. Rescue workers were searching for survivors but the chances of finding anyone alive after destruction of this magnitude were virtually insignificant. At the edge of the debris field, Assault was using his ability to shift large pieces of rubble to help with the search, while Velocity waited nearby, ready to rush any survivors to the hospital. The rest of the Protectorate team, minus Armsmaster, waited helplessly behind her as their powers were not conducive to this type of search and rescue.

"Who do you think did all this?"

Hannah turned towards the voice that came from behind her. Battery stood there, her white formfitting suit with its faintly glowing circuitry looking pristine compared to the devastation before them. With a sigh, she said, "No idea. It doesn't look like something that the ABB, Empire 88, or the Merchants would do. Maybe it was an independent villain. It could have even been a non-powered terrorist protesting Parahumans."

Battery seemed to mull over her supervisor's words. Hannah was currently the interim leader of the Protectorate East-Northeast, at least until Armsmaster was cleared of involvement in Gallant's situation. It wasn't something she sought, but she had never been one to dodge responsibility. So she would do her best, at least until such time as Armsmaster could take back over.

Her phone chose that moment to ring. Not recognizing the number, Hannah almost let it go to voicemail. But the coincidence of someone calling her right at that moment was too much. So instead, she pressed answer, saying, "Miss Militia here."

A feminine voice answered, "Miss Militia, I have information for you about the building that collapsed downtown."

Instantly suspicious, Hannah asked, "How did you get this number? What information? Do you know who did this?"

"Yes. I do know. But if I tell you, I need you to do me a favor."

Adamant, Hannah stated, "No favors. Either tell me the information or don't. But I'm not making any promises or committing myself to anything without knowing the details."

"Fuck! I knew you were going to say that."

She knew? Hannah's first thought was Thinker, but she needed to make sure. "Do you know me well enough to be able to predict my behavior?"

The girl was coy. "Not really, no. But it's what I do." More forthrightly, "Look, Miss Militia, I'm going to trust you to do the right thing here so I'll go ahead and tell you. Coil was the one who collapsed the building."

Coil? Miss Militia had read all of the reports submitted about the snake-themed villain and her perfect recall provided the details on him. He wasn't anything special, although he had managed to get ahold of Tinkertech weapons for the mercenaries he'd hired to do his fighting for him. The current theory was that he was some kind of minor Thinker with a specialty in small unit tactics. Certainly not a threat of this magnitude.

Being a minor Thinker might have allowed him not to be overwhelmed by Brockton Bay's other gangs, but neither did he attempt direct confrontations of them. Still...

Crisply, she asked, "Why would Coil collapse the building? Is he fronting for another villain or terrorist organization?"

"No. He collapsed the building because his main base was beneath it in an underground bunker."

His _main_ base? As if he had others? "And?"

"Someone penetrated his security with the intention of taking him down earlier tonight. So Coil brought down the roof on her head."

Her? The only female Parahuman who Hannah thought might be both able and motivated to do what this person was implying was... oh shit. "Who invaded Coil's base?" Please be wrong, she almost prayed. Please be wrong.

"Carnelian."

But of course she wasn't. "Was Carnelian present in the base when the building collapsed?"

There was a brief silence, then the girl spoke, "I believe so. She was supposed to meet with me afterward and from what I can gather, she was inside when it came down. You need to dig her out. If you don't, she might die."

It was all Hannah could do not to curse right at that moment. Somehow, she kept her voice even as she said, "I take it that you are associated with Carnelian in some manner?"

There was amusement in the other's voice as she said, "I'm her teammate. Look, help her out and I'll owe you one. As a matter of fact, I'll give you something for free. Besides the two agents that you know about, Sergeant Matthews and Officer Bankcroft, you have two more agents that report to Coil that you don't know about. Their names are Patrick Armstrong and Wesley Phillips. You're welcome. Oh, by the way, start on the south side in the middle of the block. That's where the secret entrance to Coil's base was. Carnelian likely made it close to the exit when the building went down."

With that, the line went dead. Hannah stared at her phone for about two seconds, then turned to Battery. Tersely, she said, "Get more help out here. We have a report of a survivor in the building. Plus, contact IA. I need two agents checked out; Lt Patrick Armstrong and Sergeant Wesley Phillips. I have a source putting them in contact with Coil."

Battery stared at her a second, then hurried off to take care of what she'd requested. Hannah stared at the huge mound of debris, then moved forward to more closely supervise things. If Carnelian was buried under there and still alive, rescuing her would both put them in good with her as well as allowing them to request her help with Gallant. Of course, there would also be hard questions asked of the vigilante about what her crusade had cost the city.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa tapped her fingers over and over again on the edge of her laptop. No news had emerged on the net or TV about any survivors being found at the site of the collapsed building and it was starting to make her nervous. Of course what was really leaving a pit in the middle of her stomach was the absolute certainty that Coil had survived.

Even as the first reports of the collapsed building were coming in, Lisa had used her power to figure out that Coil hadn't been there. Instead, he'd been in his civilian identity, hidden behind the protective walls of PRT Headquarters.

Somehow he had known that Carnelian was coming for him. Whether through his ability or some other way, Lisa wasn't sure. Her power had spit out opposing answers, telling her that the information in was garbage. Not that it really mattered. No what mattered was that she figure out a way to stay out of his way until she had a chance to catch up to Taylor.

Almost, Lisa had told Miss Militia the civilian name of Coil, Thomas Calvert. But she couldn't see an upside to outing him. Not because she didn't believe there wouldn't be an investigation into Calvert, but because she thought he would be able to beat any investigation. Plus, she genuinely believed that the consequences if it were found out that she was behind his being outed would be dire.

She didn't need the PRT and Coil both hunting for her. At least any more than they already were. She didn't need-

Lisa's laptop beeped. Staring at the screen, a slow grin crept over her mouth. She wanted to fist pump so badly, but she didn't. Instead, she carefully entered in a series of numbers, letters, and punctuation marks into a small box on her laptop's screen. There was another beep and then she was staring at the bank accounts that held most of Coil's hidden funds.

Because Coil had chosen to hide himself within the PRT, he couldn't access any of these accounts right now. He couldn't protect them by changing passwords. Not that even that would do him any good, she thought in satisfaction. She'd just figure out the new ones as well. Then with a renewed sinking sensation in her stomach, she realized that only went until such time as Coil caught up to her. And killed her. Or worse.

With trembling fingers, Lisa sent the contents of his accounts overseas, routing the funds through dozens of different banks, most of them located in countries other than the United States. Many of the countries in which the banks were located did not even share extradition with the US. Instead, they held secrets, especially banking secrets, as sacrosanct.

It was in a series of accounts in another such bank in another such country that Lisa finally allowed the funds to come to rest. Just over two hundred million dollars. More than enough money to live the rest of your life in luxury. If you didn't think that someone was going to come after you. No, she needed more than just money if she was going to survive the next few days until Coil went down.

So instead of getting up and buying a ticket to another country, Lisa turned to the rest of her teammates. Clearing her voice, she said, "Hey everyone. I need to tell you something. Something big. Plus, I'm going to need your help."

She was easily able to read their reactions. Brian was thinking 'oh God, not again'. Rachel was mostly irritated that Lisa was using time she would rather spend with her dogs. And Alec was vaguely interested if for no other reason than it was something new happening.

Concealing her trepidation behind yet another grin, Lisa started talking, "First, though, I need to tell you the story of just how I came to work for the Boss. It all started about ten months ago when three people with guns confronted me while I was shopping on the Boardwalk..."

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor groaned as she woke up. She attempted to move, but was completely unable. Even with her increased strength, she couldn't free herself, utterly pinned by something immensely heavy. Opening her eyes, the only light that entered them was from her gear.

The blue and red glows flooded the tight space around her, reflecting dully. Even with how bright all her gear appeared to her eyes, the light from it really didn't do a very good job of illuminating her surroundings. Still, she was able to make out what appeared to be a large slab of concrete covering her completely. Had the building come down? That was the only thing she could think that could have happened.

The slab of concrete was also pinning her feet where she couldn't see. Turning her head, Taylor saw that another large piece of concrete was holding down her right arm. She turned her head the other way. Her left arm, on the other hand, didn't seem to be quite as tightly held.

Struggling hard to get her left arm loose, Taylor twisted and turned, finally managing to get her arm around in front of her chest. There was barely space between her body and and the concrete above for her arm, skinny as it was, to rest there. Certainly she couldn't get it turned so that she could push with it at the heavy slab pinning her.

Reaching out, she sensed both her nearby Flight Stick and the handful of more distant grenades that she'd had to leave behind. Tentatively, Taylor tried to get her Flight Stick to move, but there was nothing. Briefly, she considered attempting to blast her way free with her Wrath items, but that might just be an incredibly bad idea. It could shift the rubble so that the concrete slab was no longer braced above her, but resting directly upon her body. Such a weight might crush even her.

Taylor still couldn't believe that she had survived. If the entire building above Coil's secret base had come down, that meant there were fifty stories of debris sitting on top of right now. Based upon the premonition she'd felt, her Danger Sense had warned her of roof coming down on her, and had also directed her on where to land. How it had known that this one small pocket would exist was the real mystery.

Briefly, she wondered if the monster who made the twisted clones was still alive. Maybe. It had looked incredibly strong and durable. Certainly it had brushed her aside as if she was nothing. However, she did doubt that the twisted clones were alive unless they were _a lot_ tougher than the originals.

Brooding, Taylor played how the fight had gone. It had definitely been a mistake to use all of the Wrath from her rings. Maybe if she had used just a few, things would have gone differently. Maybe. But she hadn't wanted to use just a few. What she had wanted to do, and still yearned to do, was to drown herself in Wrath until all of the threats to her world burned in death and fire.

Because that was their just fate. Those who sought to victimize those weaker than themselves. To rule over those less fortunate, not for the benefit of those unfortunates, but rather for the gain of the victimizer. Toward those, she would never cease her efforts to destroy them. To-

Taylor shuddered as she pushed those thoughts away, brightening yet another ring of Wrath upon her finger. Clearly, her emotions, while her main strength, were also dangerous and she would need to take care in how she dealt with them. After all, she could ill afford to lose control now, where she was. To lose herself in Wrath, or sorrow for those she'd slain.

Although, oddly enough, she felt no regrets for the people who had died today. Yet another thing she should probably be careful of, but Taylor thought it unlikely she would hesitate to act under the same set of circumstances. To kill, for example. The mercenaries she'd killed or otherwise dealt with harshly had auras in which black was the biggest component.

While having killed a lot of people didn't automatically make a person a monster, combined with the other sickly colors composing the men's auras, it was very unlikely they were stellar citizens. Two of the Parahumans who had opposed her had auras that weren't all that bad, although there was something odd about one of them. The dragon simply hadn't had an aura, making her wonder if it were a construct. If so, it was likely the person who had created it was dead. The man in the red top hat, on the other hand...

Taylor shuddered slightly. His aura had only been partially black, far less so than many of mercenaries. But none of them filled her with the immediate instinctive sense of distrust and disgust that the Parahuman had. There was something almost evil about the man's aura. In the deepest recesses of her mind, Taylor could admit that she was glad he was dead. Even if his death had released something even more dangerous into the world. The monster.

The monster had an aura that was more normal and human than not. It's emotions were surprisingly simple, if a little more intense than usual, mostly shades of anger and grief. It... she? She had loved the man in the top hat. The sorrow in her aura was genuine, as was the homicidal rage that she'd felt when she'd discovered that he was dead and Taylor was responsible.

Taylor knew that if she got out of here, the first thing she'd need to do would be to notify the PRT of the existence of... what had the other cape called her before he'd died? A moment's careful consideration carried the name up from the recesses of her memory. Noelle. She would need to tell them about Noelle.

Noelle was at least an A Class threat, and quite possibly worse. Taylor could see so many ways she could use an ability like the other's to devastate a city and worse. If Noelle could get her hands on any of the truly powerful local capes, or worse, a member of the Triumvirate, she could make huge numbers of clones with versions of their powers.

She didn't like the thought of facing even a dozen versions of Kaiser with an equal number of versions of his power. Briefly, Taylor wondered if Noelle even had a limit to how many clones she could make. If not, you could just move her up to an S Class threat, right up there with Nilbog, the Slaughterhouse Nine, and the Endbringers.

Taylor's thoughts were interrupted as the first sound other than her own reached her ears. Listening intently, she began to hear the faint sounds of digging. Then there was the distant sound of a crash, as if something very heavy had been shifted and allowed to hit the ground unencumbered.

A few moments later, light flooded Taylor's eyes, although her visor prevented it from bothering her eyes. Her other arm was no longer pinned and she immediately began to wave it around. Then she heard a shout.

"We found her, Miss Militia! Carnelian's here!"

The man who'd shouted knelt down and quietly said, "Just relax, Carnelian. I'm Mark Rogers with Search and Rescue. Are you injured?"

"No, I'm okay. I can probably get myself loose now."

There was urgency in Mark's voice as he said, " _Don't_ do that. We'll have you out of here in a few minutes. If you try to get out yourself, well the debris field is a little unstable. Fifty feet of rubble could come crashing down upon you if it shifts wrong."

Taylor waved her hand in agreement. "I understand. Have you found any other survivors?"

There was regret in the man's voice as he said, "None so far. We only found you because someone told us where to dig."

Immediately, she thought of Lisa. She must have contacted the PRT when Taylor hadn't called her after the battle. Her Thinker abilities likely allowed her to pinpoint Taylor's approximate location in the exit tunnel. Otherwise, they would still be looking for her.

Taylor managed to turn her head so that she could just see the feet of whoever was standing behind her. Mark's she immediately spotted, then two more came up. The first wore white boots with little sparkling patterns of blue circuitry upon it, while the second had black boots.

She could hear the grim humor in a male voice as someone said, "Okay, Puppy, hit me. Ow! That was too hard!"

The young woman who answered back didn't have any humor in her voice as she said, "Stop joking around and get that block moved so that we can away from this pile. It looks like it's about to come down."

Taylor tensed as she saw a hand reach under the edge of the block pinning her. She again heard the man speak, "You ready under there, Crazy?"

"I'm ready, but I'm not crazy."

"Whatever you say. Here goes."

With that, the block seemed to fly up, whereupon Taylor sprang back before it could land back upon her. As the woman in the white and gray costume that she immediately recognized as Battery started to pull her back, she was already moving.

Still, even with Taylor's heightened speed, it felt like she was moving extremely fast as she allowed herself to be pulled along by Battery. What an amazing ability, she thought. She wasn't sure she would trade her own for it, but it was one of the few that she would consider doing so. In less than a second, they'd covered nearly a hundred yards to arrive midst a group of the local Protectorate.

Arriving, Taylor recognized not only Battery had had who pulled her along, but Miss Militia in her fitted army fatigues and flag mask and sash. To one side stood Triumph in his gladiator armor and lion's head. To his right Dauntless watched her warily, his armor as gleaming and silver as her boots. All of their auras glowed with a surfeit of blue shades, as well as colors that she'd learned usually meant mistrust and wariness. So they mistrusted her at a minimum. At worst, they probably thought her dangerous and unstable.

Awkwardly, she said, "Thank for rescuing me from beneath the building."

Miss Militia waved her thanks off. "We were doing search and rescue already. It was easy enough to shift the axis of our efforts to find you. However, we need to discuss two things far more urgently than your rescue."

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Taylor asked, "What things?"

There was a dangerous edge to Miss Militia's voice as she asked, "Just what were you thinking when you decided to take on Coil by yourself and get the people in that building killed?"

There had been people in the building when it came down? Taylor felt like she had been punched in the gut. It took an effort for her to ask, "How many people died?"

"Twelve. Cleaning staff working after hours."

She was at least partially responsible for the deaths of twelve people. One of her Regurgitation grenades momentarily brightened as she poured guilt and mourning into it. Aloud, Taylor mused, "I never thought that Coil would bring the building down in an effort to stop me. My intelligence indicated that he would be there and that I would be able to apprehend him on site."

"Clearly your intelligence was wrong." Miss Militia took a deep breath, then let it out. "Look, I understand that you were doing what you thought was right. But if you had been part of a team, the building could have been evacuated as a simple matter of public safety. Minimizing collateral damage is one of the first thing that the Protectorate teaches its capes."

Clearly they still thought of her as an adult, something which Taylor found somewhat gratifying. But at the same time, how much did that mean they would hold her responsible for what had happened to the building Coil's doing or not? "I understand. I will be more careful in the future."

From behind her, she heard someone mutter, "Sure you will, Crazy."

Spinning around, Taylor saw a man wearing black body armor and a visor which hid his eyes. It did not hide the grim line of his mouth. Or the same shades of mistrust within his aura as were contained within those of his teammates. She recognized Assault, one of the more powerful capes in the local Protectorate, perhaps second only to Dauntless. It was he who had pulled the concrete off of her. And who had called her crazy earlier as well. Something which sent a flash of rage through her.

Fortunately, Miss Militia headed off the potential feud before anything else happened. "Assault, why don't you go with Battery and join Velocity in checking for survivor's at the other dig sites."

"Sure thing, boss. Come on, Puppy, race you there."

With that, Assault kicked off the ground using kinetic energy he must have stored up from earlier, launching himself nearly fifty feet in less than a second. He was immediately followed by a white blur that passed him less than halfway to their target.

Taylor turned hot eyes back towards Miss Militia. "You said you had two things to discuss with me. What's the other?"

A flash of sadness filled Miss Militia's aura, before she regained her equanimity, at least outwardly. "One of the Wards, Gallant, is currently in a drug-induced coma after being exposed to one of your orbs. While conscious, he spent the entire time screaming and violently ill. We need to discuss with you how this happened."

Gallant? She hadn't even fought the Ward. Then Taylor recalled something Lisa had said about how he'd reacted to her the night she'd fought Lung. How the auras of her gear affected him. But how would he have come into contact with one of her Regurgitation grenades, which was what the initial description of at least his physical symptoms sounded like.

Curious, Taylor asked, "How exactly did Gallant come into contact with one of my Regurgitation grenades?"

Ignoring the surprise and faint amusement in the auras of those opposite her, she waited for Miss Militia's reply. "Carnelian, we recovered one of your err... 'regurgitation' grenades from within Lung when we took him into custody. Armsmaster had it in his laboratory studying its properties. He had Gallant with him. When Bakuda bombed the city, he had to leave suddenly. We're not sure why, but Gallant decided to continue to investigate your orb. In short, it was set off and Gallant had an extremely adverse reaction to it. Unless, that is, it was much stronger than the ones you used against Clockblocker and Kid Win."

Taylor shook her head. "No, it was not. At least, not significantly so. It shouldn't have had that effect. He should have just been extremely nauseous and vomitting."

Miss Militia cocked her head. "How do you know what effect it has upon someone?" Her tone seemed to question more than just how Taylor knew what the Regurgitation grenade would do.

Her tone flat, Taylor said, "Because I tested them on myself first. I threw up for about two hours and that's it. I assume that others that I've used them on have had the same effects?"

A look of astonishment in her dark eyes, Miss Militia nodded jerkily. Taylor mused, "Maybe it affected him differently because of his empathic powers."

Swiftly, Miss Militia challenged, "How did you know that Gallant has empathic powers? That's not something that's been proposed about him on PHO. Or known about outside of the PRT and Protectorate."

Crap. Now she'd given away that she and Lisa had discussed Gallant's other ability. Miss Militia continued, "I suppose it was your Thinker teammate who figured it out."

Taylor nodded, glad that they couldn't read her aura as easily as she could read theirs. Suspicion had flared, then receded as a reasonable explanation was given. And it was true, although she certainly wouldn't have described Lisa as her teammate. Tentatively, she asked, "Do you want me to take a look at him? See if I can help him?"

Relief flooded the auras of all of the capes within earshot at Taylor's suggestion. She wondered if they thought that she would refuse to help someone. Why would she do that? She was a hero after all.

Miss Militia nodded. "Yes, please. As soon as possible. He's been down since before your fight with Bakuda. That was you who dealt with her, wasn't it?"

Taylor nodded in return. "Yes, it was."

"I thought so. How did you..." Miss Militia gestured towards her leg, and Taylor noted the way the other Protectorate members present seemed to be focused upon the conversation.

Shrugging, she said, "My Regeneration ring did what was needed."

Taylor paused a second, then carefully asked, "I have your word that this is not some trap to attempt to take me into custody?"

"You have my word. Right now, you are not wanted for anything. That could change depending upon how the investigation of the building's collapse plays out, but for now, you're in the clear," Miss Militia said, her aura confirming her words.

There was a tremendous relief in Taylor's voice that she couldn't disguise. "Great." In a more formal tone, she added, "Miss Militia, I must warn you of a danger. What I believe to be at least an A Class threat and possibly even an S Class is also buried underneath the rubble."

Tension shown through both in the other's aura and her stance. "What threat?"

"I fought a group of Parahumans down there..."

Taylor went on to describe the cape in the top hat as well as the others. When she was done, Miss Militia nodded in understanding. "The Travelers. A group of Parahuman villains who have been moving around. Powerful and versatile according to the latest report I read. What else?"

"Once they were down, the leader called for help over a communicator. To someone called Noelle. When he did so, a huge creature tore its way out through an enormous vault door. The door had to be almost three feet thick and it tore the steel like it was tissue paper."

Miss Militia stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Brute 7 at least, but still, not extreme cause for concern."

Taylor raised her voice slightly. "It brushed me aside like I was a feather on its way to the Travelers. When it got to them, it... ate them. Or so I thought."

"What? Are you serious?" For the first time, Miss Militia looked slightly rattled.

Taylor nodded jerkily. "There were these huge mouths on its body that it used to swallow them whole. However, I don't know if it truly ate them or not. A moment later, it regurgitated different versions of them. A _lot_ of different versions of them."

Tone sharp, Miss Militia queried, "Clones? With powers?"

"Yes. Different powers than the originals I think. And they all listened to her. Right before I received a premonition that the building was coming down, she told them to all attack me and they were doing so when I left."

"You believe that this creature was able to survive the building's collapse?"

"If I was able to survive, it would have. It was tough. I don't think the clones would have, though. But if she can make more..."

In a more formal tone, which told Taylor it was time to leave, Miss Militia said, "Thank you, Carnelian, for the information. If you would go with Velocity to the Protectorate HQ and see if there is anything you can do for Gallant, I would appreciate it. I'll call ahead and have Armsmaster meet you at the entrance."

Taylor nodded her assent whereupon Miss Militia strode off, talking intently into her communicator. Noting that no one was near the pile of debris where she had been dug up, she reached out and yanked upon her Flight Stick.

The device blasted out of the mound with an eruption of debris, causing a minor avalanche. Then it was next to her. But before Taylor could mount it, Velocity was at her side.

"If you'll take my hand, I'll get you there a lot faster than that."

"Okay."

With a feeling of almost trepidation, Taylor took the proffered hand and hung on as she moved far faster than her own boots could move her. In seconds she had crossed half the city and was in front of the high tech oil derrick that was the Protectorate HQ. In the distance, she could feel her Flight Stick following. It would take it a couple of minutes to get here as she saw no reason to push it to its top speed.

As promised, Armsmaster stood at the entrance to the building, clad in dark blue armor with silver accents. His eyes were covered, but his chin was visible showing a neatly trimmed beard. He carried his trademark halberd.

Armsmaster gestured towards Taylor. "Carnelian, if you would come this way, please?"

Taylor walked in the direction indicated, glad that for once she was with someone who seemed not to feel the need to make useless chit chat. She wasn't sure what she would have talked to Armsmaster about anyway. As they walked, instead of talking, she examined her companion.

Armsmaster's aura was composed of a lot of shades of blue, indicating his protective nature, but there were other shades, some of which Taylor didn't like seeing on someone who headed the local Protectorate. A shade of green that indicated jealousy vied with one of orange that showed an overabundance of pride. Not completely untrustworthy, but she would need to be wary of someone with the indicated weaknesses.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for them to arrive at their destination.

A young man lay in a hospital bed hooked up to a variety of machines, all of which beeped or hummed. His sole garments were a simple hospital gown and an equally simple domino mask. He was carefully restrained, as if to prevent him front hurting himself, bindings severely limiting his arm movement. His aura was strange to say the least. It appeared as if he was in the throes of some great emotional upheaval, despite the fact that he was deeply asleep. Taylor didn't like the looks of it one bit.

Taking off her gloves, she slid a Regeneration ring off of one of her fingers and slid it onto his own finger, then loosened his restraints. Taking his hands in hers, she triggered the entire charge from her own Regeneration ring. Because she could feel the uneasiness in the hero at her side, Taylor kept up a running commentary as she worked.

"The ring I put on him was a Regeneration ring. It'll keep a constant flow of healing going into him while I examine him. Just to be safe, I also used the charge of another Regeneration ring on him as well. Physically, he's as healthy as he's ever been in his entire life."

Armsmaster grunted, then leaned in to watch, his eyes occasionally darting to some device he held in one hand. Seemingly satisfied with whatever it told him, he placed it back onto the side table. "You're telling the truth."

Taylor's head came up. "Of course I am. Oh, you can tell if someone's lying as well? Interesting."

At her side, she could briefly feel Armsmaster's attention sharpen, then she focused her attention once more upon Gallant.

Next, she watched the boy's aura as the Regeneration ring burned through whatever remained of the medication in his veins. The first charge had likely removed most of it, but if any remained, this would take care of it.

Aloud, Taylor said, "Gallant's going to be coming out of the drug-induced coma so that I can see what's actually occurring inside of him. I take it that he struggled the last time thus the restraints?"

"Yes."

Her first indications that the rings had done their job was when behind the mask, Gallant's eyes opened, and he began to scream hysterically as he struggled, his hands twisting in hers. His voice was loud and frantic, sounding as if he were on the verge of madness. What his aura revealed, though, was even more interesting.

His aura was almost completely yellow, all other colors washed out by the bilious glow of instability and emotional agony. Gallant was in utter torment, and Taylor had no idea why. But she refused to fail the young man who had been harmed by one of her devices. Fortunately, she had an idea how to help him, something she had never tried before.

Aloud, she said, "I'm going to try to replace the negative emotions with positive ones. I need a moment."

Centering herself, Taylor reached out for positive emotions. Even as her ears were assaulted by Gallant's screams, she pulled positive emotions to the forefront. Memories of her father helped provide joy. His love and relief at finding her unharmed after she had gone missing.

From him she also took love and protection. Taylor pulled courage and confidence from her success as a hero in protecting her city. From other situations, she drew out the emotions she believed she needed.

When she was finally done, Taylor drew all of those emotions deeply into her, fusing them, then _pushed_ them into Gallant's body through the hands she still in both of hers.

The effects were immediate. In mid-scream, Gallant stopped, his mouth open, strands of drool leaking from within. Reason returned to his eyes, and they snapped around to stare at Taylor. He didn't speak, but the grip of his fingers tightened almost painfully upon Taylor's hands.

At her side, Armsmaster spoke urgently, "Gallant. Can you understand what I'm saying? Are you cognizant? I repeat, Gallant, do you understand me?"

Releasing one of Taylor's hands, Gallant waved him off in a desultory manner. "I understand you, Armsmaster. What the hell happened to me?"

Oddly enough, he was still holding one of Taylor's hands, but she did not force him to release her, not wanting to push him just yet. Carefully, she watched the boy's aura, surprised by how abrupt and severe the change was.

All of the yellow was gone, as if expunged. Now it contained exactly those emotions that she had pushed into him, in even more intense shades, alongside a cornucopia of his own. Taylor wished that she had gotten a better look at Gallant when he'd been present during her fight with Lung because she wasn't sure if this was how his aura usually looked or not. For example, had he always had that intense blush of pink swirling there?

Armsmaster spoke in a surprisingly reassuring voice, "You had an adverse reaction to an object we were investigating together. Do you remember that?"

Gallant rubbed his forehead with his free hand, his other still holding Taylor's. "Of course. You had to leave and I accidentally knocked it off when I was startled by the alarm. It went off and I..."

Armsmaster prompted, "You what?"

Sounding self-deprecating, Gallant said, "I think I went just a little mad. There was just so much pain inside the orb. So much hurt. How could anyone bear to feel that way?"

Armsmaster turned his gaze upon Taylor, who could read his speculation in his aura, even if she couldn't see his eyes. "That remains to be seen. I'm afraid that you are going to have to spend the next forty-eight hours under Master/Stranger protocols to make sure you aren't experiencing any other adverse reactions."

Gallant nodded jerkily. "I understand." He looked up at Taylor, the sheer emotion in his eyes startling. "Thank you for what you did. I can feel... Thank you so much. I never knew... Thank you."

Taylor managed to sputter out, "You're welcome."

Then she once again attempted to pull her hand loose from his. After a moment, Gallant let go. Taylor paused only to retrieve her ring from him, then turned and walked out of the room, pausing in the hallway.

Armsmaster followed her. Grudgingly, he said, "You have the thanks of the Protectorate for healing one of our own."

Unsaid was the accusation that it was her fault that Gallant had been injured in the first place. Of course, Armsmaster was going to be even more upset when Taylor apprised of what she had just learned. Well, no time like the present, she decided

Quietly, Taylor said, "Don't thank me yet. What I did to him had consequences. Unless, that is, he was always a low level Brute?"

Armsmaster turned to look at her, his stare accusatory even through his visor. "No, he has never exhibited Brute abilities. What do you know?"

Deciding to be completely honest, even if it did reveal something of her own abilities, Taylor stated, "I have gear that makes me about a Brute 5 or so. I'm not one hundred percent sure about the level. That's just my own estimate. Gallant was holding my hand hard enough that I found it difficult to pull free. Not that I couldn't have, just that it was harder than it should have been. Clearly something's happened to him. I'm not sure if it's temporary or not."

The expletive that Armsmaster spoke made Taylor raise her eyebrows in astonishment. The Tinker always seemed to controlled that it felt odd to see him lose his temper like that. His voice was very tense as he asked, "Can you give me any more information on what might have happened to him? What exactly did you do to bring him out of his... emotional turmoil?"

Shrugging, Taylor said, "I pushed positive emotions into him."

"Positive emotions? What emotions? Exactly as you can remember."

"Love. Courage. Protectiveness. Joy. Confidence. Honor. Health. I think that's most of them."

"What do those emotions do to people when you've used them before?"

A sensation akin to embarrassment blew through Taylor. She scuffed a foot. "I've never actually used them on a person. When I use them on objects, they change to become my gear, granting me abilities. I've never used that exact mix on anything else before, not even gear. What I did was mostly instinctive."

The silence that followed was worse than the earlier expletive. There was deadly control in Armsmaster's voice as he said, "Stay in contact with us while we figure out exactly what this has done to Gallant. If we need you to come in and answer questions, you will do so, understand?"

The first hint of Wrath colored her vision, but Taylor kept a firm grasp upon her temper, pushing it away into her rings. "Of course. I'll be happy to help. I'll check back in a day or so."

Armsmaster nodded, dissatisfaction coloring his aura. Then he flagged down a PRT trooper who was walking past. "Private Howell, please escort Carnelian to the exit."

"Yes, sir."

With that, Taylor was marched to the exit and shown the door. In her mind, she was beginning to worry about just what she'd done to Gallant by pushing emotions into his body. She had a feeling that she hadn't heard the last of the issue from Armsmaster.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dean sat up in the hospital bed, his mind awhirl. He'd spent the last half hour under observation from Armsmaster, but the other cape had not spoken to him per Master/Stranger protocols. Instead, he'd merely watched Dean and brooded.

He could see the emotions flowing through Armsmaster. Anger and worry, jealousy and uncertainty. It was not a pretty sight. At least Dauntless wasn't around to exacerbate the situation. Armsmaster always seemed at his worst around the other cape. He was really glad when the Tinker finally stepped out into the hallway and took his negative emotions with him.

Dean, himself, felt pretty good. Despite having apparently spent days unconscious, he felt as fresh as he'd just awoken from a really good single night's sleep. No hint of fatigue touched him. He was alert with none of the lethargy that an extended hospital stay usually caused. He briefly considered that little factoid. Then his thoughts turned to his benefactor.

He had been so wrong about Carnelian, imagining her a monster. She was anything but. Not only had she healed him, but she had done something more. Something that even now Dean could feel inside of him. He knew he was stronger than before; better. Equally awesome, the world around him felt like a warmer, safer, and more beautiful place than ever he had imagined.

Perhaps he should be wary of these new feelings. After all, he had gone through the PRT training courses on how to detect if you or someone close to you had been affected by a Master or Stranger. Yet, somehow, Dean couldn't find it within himself to care. Or to question his good fortune.

Because good fortune it was. After all, not only had he been granted a new lease on life, but new abilities besides. Exactly what kind, Dean wasn't sure. It would require time and experimentation to figure out. He would have both as he was going to be confined for at least forty-eight hours and possibly more.

Of course, the greatest part of his good fortune was the realization of his feelings. After all, what man wouldn't enjoy finding out he was in love?

Humming a love song that he had heard over the radio a couple of weeks back and that Victoria had been all gaga over, Dean put his hands behind his head and lay there completely relaxed, waiting for them to take him away. He was still humming it when uniformed PRT troopers led him away in restraints.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

 **AN:** And so it begins. Hard chapter to write. Striving to balance the powers of the Travelers with that of Carnelian. Her rescue by the Protectorate. Noelle still lurking out there, ready to cut loose. And her own saving of Gallant with all of the consequences that I implied here. So go ahead and give me some feedback on how it reads. I'm waiting for it.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Plans Do Not Always Su

**Chapter Sixteen: Plans Do Not Always Survive Contact With The Enemy**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Kayden flew through the air towards the meeting place. She still didn't know why she had agreed to meet, but didn't want to continue to dwell on her feelings about the matter. After all, she was going to be face to face again with Max in just a few minutes.

Her feelings about him were conflicted. In some ways, she considered him to be the most evil and manipulative person she had ever met. In others, she couldn't help but admiring him, as he took a stand against the rot and moral decay that didn't just plague Brockton Bay, but most of the world.

Her feelings for him was a dichotomy that Kayden could not resolve. It didn't help that he was the father of her child or that she looked after her stepson, Theo, Max's son from a previous marriage. That kind of personal connection couldn't be easily overcome, at least by her.

But that connection came with its own baggage as well. The way that Max had used her naiveté, twisted and manipulated her while she was emotionally vulnerable, over and over again, until Kayden hadn't known which side was up. Of course, he had always been there to tell her, making of himself a rock in the storm for her to cling to, even if he had been the source of most of the turmoil in her life.

It had taken her becoming pregnant with Aster to break away from him. Not that Max had wanted to let her go, even less so because she had taken Justin, Dorothy, and Geoff with her. She'd even separated him from his son, Theo, not that the bastard had seemed to care about that. No, Max had been more far more upset at losing four strong capes than he had been at his own son leaving.

Then again, she wondered if Max had really even registered that Theo was gone. Certainly he had never spent time with the boy or groomed him to take over for him when he was gone. Sometimes, Kayden thought that Max believed himself to be immortal, that he would never die. It was just one of the things that annoyed her about the man.

Taking a deep breath, Kayden let it out. Dwelling on all of this, the past and her anger with her ex-husband, merely delayed the inevitability of the meeting that she was now late for. Deciding it was best to get it over with, she flew to the lighted window high on the Medhall Building where Max's office was.

Of course he ignored her a moment, though it was impossible that he hadn't seen her glow. It was but the first shot in his constant war of oneupmanship and manipulation. Sometimes Kayden believed Max didn't care about anything or anyone, considering them mere fodder for his hunger for power. Other times, she wondered if she'd glimpsed fragments of the true man, as momentary vulnerabilities surfaced. It was hard to tell as Max was all too good at presenting a false face to even her when he so chose.

After a few seconds passed, Max turned, seemingly realizing she was there. His face lit up with a smile, pure pleasure at the sight of her in his expression. It made her traitorous heart beat just a tiny bit faster, even as a bitter sensation rose in her throat at the knowledge that she was still vulnerable to the man's good looks and charm.

Then he was opening the window and gesturing for her to come inside. Almost before she landed, Max had taken her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. He crooned, "Kayden, it is so good to see you. I was worried when I realized you were late."

Yet you weren't watching the window, she thought, refusing to allow his words to touch her. She was Kayden Anders, Purity, and would remain unmoved by his blandishments. Choosing her own words carefully, she said, "It's good to see you as well, Max. I see far too little of you even though Theo, also, lives with me these days."

Something indiscernible momentarily touched Max's eyes. Take that, Kayden thought, deciding to believe she'd angered him. He responded by ushering her towards a chair. As he did so, he smiled again, his eyes crinkling. "You're right of course. I don't see nearly enough of my son. Or Aster either, I suppose."

Just like that, he turned things around on her, making Kayden wonder if he would attempt to take her daughter away from her. Not that she would allow it. Not even if she had to use her powers as Purity to stop him. Suddenly wearying of the eternal ripostes that their relationship had become, she bluntly asked, "What do you want, Max?"

He looked momentarily taken aback. Then again, it had probably been a long time since anyone other than Brad had spoken to him so directly. Max seemed to take it in stride and quietly stated, "I want you back, Kayden."

Never, her heart snarled! But Kayden had had far too much experience in dealing with Max to allow her surprise or her anger to show. "Why now, Max?"

"I know you've heard what happened to Brad and to James."

Kayden felt Max's words pierce her heart. She nodded a little jerkily. "I heard. I'm sorry about James, but Brad..."

Max nodded smoothly as he said in his rich voice, "Brad died a warrior's death. He would have had no regrets. James left his family alone and if only for that, vengeance is required."

And there it was, Kayden thought. The perpetual cycle of 'hit me and I'll hit you back' keeps going on. Max clearly wanted her help to deal with Carnelian, the vigilante who had taken down the two members of Empire 88 as well as Lung. If she rejoined Empire 88 and put herself and her people back into Max's less than tender clutches, not only would it undo all that she had attempted in separating herself from them, but it would put them on the front lines of a battle against a truly dangerous foe.

Aloud, Kayden said, "While I do regret what happened to James and Brad, I don't see how it affects me and mine. Carnelian targeted Empire 88 because you were fighting in the street against Lung. If you-"

Max interrupted her, "She killed Bakuda, Kayden. She's killing any villainous Parahumans that she runs into."

Carnelian had killed Bakuda? Kayden had been aware that there had been a news release after the bombings the day before yesterday designed to reassure the public that Bakuda had been dealt with. Based on what had been said, she'd assumed that the Protectorate had dealt with the Tinker bomber. Thinking about it, she should have known better. The heroes rarely told the truth about anything, from the state of their city to how they fared against the villains therein.

Still, she couldn't let him use that an a way into through her defenses. "What is your point, Max?"

"If she's willing to kill Bakuda, James, and Brad, what makes you think you, Justin, Dorothy, or Geoff are safe? Come back to me... us. Come back to Empire 88, Kayden. Join us. Let us face Carnelian together. Think about what we can accomplish as a team once more. We can clean up the city. Finally break the ABB and the Merchants and finally drive out those filth who prey upon our children. All of our dreams can come true."

God, Kayden decided, Max was effective when he spoke that way. Despite everything she knew about him, all of the heartbreak she had experienced from him over the time when they were together, the way she'd seen him manipulate her and others, she so wanted to take him at his word right then. She wanted to follow him and trust him to take care of her and the future.

But it wasn't something that she could ever do again. Maybe it was a sign of growing up, of maturity, but Kayden refused to allow herself to be guided by another ever again. Dorothy and Geoff were damaged because of the things that Max had done in the past. Justin had stayed by her, partially because he was in love with her, but mostly because he, too, had grown to distrust their so-called leader.

She couldn't justify entrusting her daughter's fate to her ex-husband, who had shown how easily he used others, anyone really, who proved to be useful. That someone was his own flesh and blood wasn't going to make a difference. Aster was likely to be a powerful cape, if for no other reason than her parents were so strong. Theo quite probably the same. Rejoining Max would be putting the fate of each of them in his hands. It wasn't something that Kayden was willing to do.

"I don't think so."

Kayden could immediately tell that her answer wasn't the one Max expected or wanted to hear. Still, he didn't lose his temper or rant and rave. Instead, he was smooth and convincing as he said, "Kayden, I can understand your reservations. I believe that I have a compromise. Come back to us and I'll allow you to take over leadership of the team, with myself as your lieutenant. You can take Empire 88 in the direction that you want it to go. Take us away from our reputation of being racist bastards. I will back up each and every decision you make. Hell, with Brad and James gone, who would even dare to challenge your leadership with me by your side?"

Kayden could see Max as Lucifer, tempting Eve with the apple all those thousands of years ago. Hie thee behind me, Satan, she whispered in the confines of her mind. But her ex still wasn't through.

"If this isn't something that you can live with, then I'm going to have to reconsider the safety of my children. I won't be able to trust that you can keep them safe from a vigilante like Carnelian. I'll have to-"

Kayden's power flared as she interrupted him, her quiet voice as deadly as a pit viper, "If you try to take Aster from me, I'll kill you. Understand me, you will not touch my daughter. I won't join you. Nor will Justin, Geoff, or Dorothy. We're building something clear of Empire 88. Something pure. Understand me, Max Anders, you challenge me at your own peril."

For a moment, Kayden wondered if she was about to get a steel blade through her back, such was the fury on her ex-husband's face. Max looked like he was about to experience an aneurysm, his features twisted into a rictus of fury. Something truly dangerous glittered in his eyes. After a moment, however, with a visible effort of will, he finally got himself back under control, his features smoothing and the tension receding from his body.

When he was done, only the faint gleam in his eyes gave away his feelings. Even his voice was warm and caring when he said, "Kayden, I'm sorry that you think you need to threaten me. I just want what's best for you and my children. For now, let's take a step back. I'll contact you again soon. For the sake of our child, let's not become strangers."

Not bothering to say goodbye, Kayden allowed her power to carry her across the room. She didn't even bother opening the window, instead blowing through it in a flare of white and glass fragments. Max would likely try to use her exit against her in the future, but at that moment, she simply didn't care. Instead, she felt the beginnings of pride fill her.

It was the first time she had truly stood against Max's will. Even when she'd left him, she's wondered if it wasn't something that he'd planned so that he could both remove a rival for power and open the way for him to sleep with his deceased wife's young twin cousins. That twisted relationship still grated on her mind and she could admit that she would never forgive him what he'd done.

She would also never again allow Max Anders any say in how she lived her life. The break was finally clean, and she would live her life as she chose, not as her ex-husband and the rest of his dark Empire believed she should. She'd shield Geoff and Dorothy as much as possible, and maybe someday find love with Justin. Her daughter would grow up loved unconditionally, not needing to jump through hoops to earn someone's devotion. Aster would also be taught her proper place in the world without Max's overt racist agenda coloring her thoughts, guiding her every action.

Kayden would also do her best for Theo. The boy from Max's first marriage was almost like a nonentity at the moment, terrified of trusting anyone around him or of making waves. Because he had never been able to trust the man who was his father or draw attention to himself without that same man's disapproval.

Theo needed a parent who cared about him and she would do her best to be that person. Maybe Justin could take over the father's role with him. Kayden knew that he cared at least a little about Theo, and would do so if she asked it of him. Her thoughts crystallized things for her. She would talk to Justin. Theo deserved that much. He would need it in the future because the likelihood of him triggering was overwhelming. After all, if that twit of a Dallon girl could trigger by getting fouled while playing basketball, a boy of Theo's lineage would do at least as well.

Feeling at peace at last, Kayden Anders left a blazing trail of pure white in the heavens.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

If anger were a weapon, his ex-wife Kayden would have been utterly torn apart by the sheer ferocity of his feelings. Instead, all she left behind her was the white trail of her passage.

Max stared at the broken window, wondering how things had gone so wrong. How had the mouse he'd married once upon a time found the temerity to stand against him? Kayden had never been able to withstand the force of his personality. Even her leaving him had actually been his idea, something he wanted in order to be able to openly spend time with Nessa and Jess.

By giving Kayden her freedom, he'd actually gained his own. But he had always been planning to bring her back into the fold. He had plans that needed the support of additional powerful capes.

Especially now. After what had happened to Brad and James, he definitely needed four more capes. Five if he could somehow get his weak-willed son to trigger. Nothing else would suffice to kill that bitch who had so humiliated him, had shown up the best that Empire 88 could muster.

Max could still remember helplessly vomiting his guts out, unable to even move, as he'd wondered if the next moment might be his last. If it hadn't been for Nessa growing large enough that the worst of the sensations had passed her by, he might even have been captured or killed. Not that she'd been immune, vomiting upon him and her sister even as she somehow staggered down the street. It had been beyond disgusting and he'd publicly vowed vengeance even if it cost him his life.

Because he was all to aware of just how tenuous his grasp upon the reins of Empire 88 really was. Anytime you had capes as powerful and clever as those who made up their ranks, you had to be careful never to display any form of weakness.

But Carnelian had exposed him. Exposed them all. She had shown just how vulnerable they all were.

He wasn't really a believer, not like so many of the rank and file. Not like his father, Allfather, had been. No, Max stayed in because of the power that being in charge of one of the strongest Parahuman gangs in the world gave him. He didn't mind risking his life, balancing that against the reward that he could gain. But he'd never planned to go out in a blaze of glory, no matter the provocation.

But that had been before that bitch. Carnelian. Even thinking of her name lit a fire inside of him that utterly dwarfed how angry Kayden's defiance had left him. The destruction of the entire world wasn't enough o assuage his feelings on what she had done. Yet, despite all of his anger, he would never have set himself directly against her if he hadn't been forced by the expectations of his own people.

Taking a deep breath, Max smashed his fist against the wall. Once. Twice. Thrice. Finally, getting himself under control, he forced himself to take an unemotional look at the situation.

Max had nine capes, including himself, to retain control of his area and to defeat Carnelian. Against him was arrayed the forces of the Protectorate, seven members and six Wards, as well as New Wave, with their eight members. On the villain side were the four members of the Undersiders, and the three of the Merchants. Additionally, there was a scattering of independent heroes and villains living in the city, none of whom would likely dare attempt to stand against him.

And Carnelian.

That one cape was more of a threat to his plans for the future than all of the others combined threatened to drive Max back into the rage he'd just managed to quell. He refused to allow that. Instead, he took a seat and brooded over how he could deal with her.

Carnelian had a wide array of powers under her command. Max did as well, his people able to accomplish virtually anything that he could envision. Now that he knew about the orbs she'd used to hammer his position he was certain that he could come up with a counter.

Of course, before his death, James would have been the obvious choice to stop her. As Krieg, his telekinetic power's versatility was unmatched in Brockton Bay. He would have been able to stop her with more warning; he should have been able to stop her regardless. But he hadn't, and it cost him his life.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Max realized that no one else under his current command was an automatic trump for Carnelian. Victor, gifted with invincibility by Othala, could likely fight her, but he would never be able to overcome her Mover abilities. Rune simply lacked the speed to tag the vigilante, missing several times during their battle with her. Also, her having to touch the items she controlled was too limiting against Carnelian.

None of the others were any better.

That was why it had been so important to gain Kayden's allegiance. Not only was she likely the second most powerful blaster in North America, but she was also one of the fastest Movers as well. Geoff was likely immune to Carnelian's power in his gaseous form. Justin's ghosts could engage her at range with complete immunity, while still dealing damage.

In his mind, he could see a plan that would accomplish all of his goals. He would need to bring Kayden to heel, forcing her back into the fold. Once that was done, he would be able to deal with Carnelian. He would also once more hold a decisive edge over any single group within Brockton Bay. Then he could once more push the message that had built Empire 88 into the powerhouse it was today.

Unfortunately, Kayden had made herself into the obstacle standing in his way. But he already had the outline of a plan to deal with her. Yes, once fleshed out, he simply couldn't see how his ex-wife would be able to say no. Not with the leverage he was going to be using against her.

A faint smile twisted Max's lips as he lifted his office phone's receiver to leave a message for building maintenance to repair his window. They'd have to work through the night, but it was necessary that he have his office ready for tomorrow in order to be able to do important work. Important work that ensured a better future for everyone.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Dean lay on his bunk in the prison section reserved for Master/Stranger isolation. He had no access to television or current news. Even books and any form of reading was forbidden for the duration of his time here. No, all he had to keep himself occupied were the Tests and his own thoughts.

Right now, Dean was deeply pondering the meaning of life. Always before, he'd believed life was about being a good person and helping others. Like most guys his age, he liked girls and enjoyed their company and the physical closeness that came with it. He'd dated a number of girls in his civilian identity, but until the day before yesterday, he'd never been in love.

Victoria Dallon. Just the thought of her name was like a song in his heart. She lit the darkness with her light and it made him smile fondly just thinking about beautiful she was. Kind, sweet, and without peer, she was the epitome of all women.

Of course, he knew intellectually that Victoria wasn't perfect. No one was. Momentarily, an image arose in his thoughts of a blazing azure figure, something beyond human, but he resolutely pushed that away. It approached apostasy, and he needed things to be right. Especially now, when he was so close.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa paced back and forth within her room, while her teammates relaxed in the living room eating pizza. They'd agreed to back her and it had only cost her sixty percent of her ill gotten gains. But she had been reluctant to lie to them, if for no other reason than if Coil did tell them the truth, that she'd stolen so much money from him, they would have been both angry at being shortchanged and equally angry that the risk they were taking only benefited her.

This way, they would feel the obligation to defend her far beyond just that of a mere employee. Teammate and provider of extreme wealth, all rolled into one. That was what she had become.

Lisa just wished she could count on the same thing with Carnelian. She'd saved the last twenty percent of the money to give to the vigilante, but she was almost sure the girl wouldn't want it. Still, she'd decided it was better safe than sorry. She'd do her best to get a read on the girl before offering it and also focus upon predicting Carnelian's behavior as carefully as possible.

Carnelian was her ticket to survival. Lisa was absolutely certain of it. The other cape's power was still growing and there was no certainty just where it would level out. Protection lay in her shadow, where one could lurk out of sight of all but the most discerning of her enemies.

She just wished that she knew when Carnelian would contact her again.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"He's not showing any signs of being mastered. His augmented physical abilities are slowly fading, although based on the little that we know about how Carnelian's power works, it would likely be refreshed if he spent time in her presence or had physical contact of any kind with her."

Armsmaster nodded. "I understand, Dr Maxwell, but this is not something with which we're familiar. Gallant has been boosted using a form of power that imbues through the emotions of the augmenting cape. There is no way of predicting how this could be affecting him. Or how additional contact with Carnelian would affect him."

Dr Maxwell shrugged. "Perhaps, but our methods have had years of research and development behind them. They've shown themselves to be very nearly one hundred percent effective, especially in cases such as Gallant's, where we have such a good baseline of data to compare against any changes."

"So you'll guarantee that my Ward is completely fine?"

"Of course not. But I'll guarantee that the chance that he's been adversely affected is vanishingly small. Armsmaster, he's been in surprisingly good spirits for being in Master/Stranger Isolation. He's been missing his girlfriend. I am not worried."

"Fine. Release him in four hours then, when his full forty-eight hours have passed. Do one more series of tests just to make sure."

Dr Maxwell sighed. "Fine. I'll do the tests personally. If any discrepancies show up, I'll make sure to notify you."

Colin left on that note. Walking back towards his lab, he nodded at any familiar faces that he encountered. Research showed that even casual acknowledgment such as this increased the efficiency with which most people performed their jobs. It was particularly satisfying that he was able to do the same thing with people that he did with his equipment even if in so small a way.

Arriving at his lab, he quickly composed a report on Gallant's condition which he sent off to Director Piggot. Then he got to work. Colin was currently developing a nanoscale weapon which used a cutting edge so sharp that it was able to cut almost any material known. He had high hopes that it would be effective against even Endbringers. Provided that is, he was able to resolve the heat issue.

Colin was just about to attempt to reroute the heat back through superconductors within the haft of his halberd, when there was a chime, indicating that someone was at his lab door.

He quickly checked a camera view, then pressed a button to allow the other entry. He'd restricted entry into his laboratory ever since the incident with Gallant. Though Carnelian's orb had been moved into a restricted storage, it had already poisoned so much, just as the vigilante cape herself had.

"What is it, Miss Militia?"

"Armsmaster, Browbeat is missing."

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor sighed as she pushed the food around on her plate. With resigned amusement, she said, "I'm fine, Dad. It's just I'm finding schoolwork almost boring these days. I'm actually pretty far ahead of now of the standard in each of my classes."

"Well, that isn't so bad, is it? If you complete all of your coursework early, then you'll be able to test early. Maybe even graduate early."

"Yeah. I suppose."

They both ate in silence for the rest of the meal. Taylor smiled faintly at her dad's aura, seeing how strong and healthy it was. She felt the warmth of his aura radiating against hers, the sheer affection there making her feel better.

It was one thing to have someone tell you they loved you, whether parents or your significant other. It was another thing entirely to know that they did, without equivocation.

Still, it didn't entirely fill the void that had been steadily growing within her. Not that she was jonesing for a boyfriend, or anything exactly like that, but even the small amount of contact she'd had with Lisa had been surprisingly enjoyable.

That Lisa and the others were villains was the sticking point there. But the girl had already indicated that she was going to join Taylor once Coil was eliminated. Taylor frowned at that thought. Did she want or need another person at her side? Would she be able to look past Lisa's flaws if she did join her?

From Lisa, Taylor's thoughts turned to Coil. He'd escaped her. Somehow he'd known she was coming, making sure to not be there when she attacked. Instead, he'd sacrificed all of his people, capes and norms, in a great big 'fuck you' aimed right at her. It was a stunning display of ruthlessness, one that she wasn't sure she could match.

Or even wanted to. Taylor made the decision right then and there to not kill the other, unless she had no choice. Maybe cut off an arm or a leg, or even both, but not kill him. Instead, let him rot in a prison, knowing that she had been the one to bring him down.

With a sigh that purely internal, Taylor knew that all of her thinking was bravado. She didn't have the slightest idea where Coil was. Although, maybe Lisa would be able to clue her into where he was hiding.

Just like that, Taylor decided she was going to see Lisa again that very night. First though, she needed to convince her dad.

"Dad, would it be okay if I went out tonight to see some friends?"

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

The banging on the door caught Brian's attention. He immediately tensed, as did his teammates around him. Except for Lisa who suddenly looked pleased.

"Thank God."

He watched as Lisa scrambled over to the door and quickly unlocked and opened it. Waving their visitor inside, she announced, "It's just Carnelian, everybody."

Just Carnelian. Brian shivered slightly at the sound of the girl's name. Damn, but Lisa could be cavalier sometimes, he thought. Then he grew focused as the vigilante cape walked in, wearing her costume, but carrying a small backpack.

He glanced over at his teammates, but neither were paying that much attention to Carnelian's entrance. Rising to his feet, he abruptly asked, "What are you doing here?"

There was something almost uncertain about Carnelian's body language, as if his hostility had caught her off guard. That uncertainty was reflected in her tone as she said, "I'm here to see Lisa."

Brian sent a questioning look his teammate's way. Lisa nodded sunnily. "She's here to see me. Come on, Carnelian, let's go to my room. Where we can have some privacy."

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor followed the blonde into her room, suddenly wishing she'd never come. Brian's tension and near hostility had been reflected in his aura and she knew exactly how little he wanted her there. Even with Lisa's aura soothing her, the jar of the other boy's had affected her. When had she become so vulnerable so these others?

Brian's negative reaction had actually caused a frisson of rage to snake through her, even thought Taylor wasn't wearing any rings inside of her gloves other than her Regeneration rings. The Wrath rings were currently stored in a bag at her waist, ready to be donned if needed. Standing there and feeling awkward, Taylor started when the other girl tapped her head, signaling her to remove her helm, which she hastily did.

"Just ignore him, Taylor. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." Taylor's automatic reply came out before she could even considering answering otherwise. Then she shrugged. "I'm mostly okay. I wanted to thank you for sending the PRT after me at Coil's base. They didn't tell me it was you, but how else would they have known where to dig?"

"No problem. I figured out something had happened when you didn't contact me. My power filled in the rest. I take it that you didn't find him there?"

"No. Instead, I took out his mercenaries, and fought some villain group. For a moment, I wondered if I would run into the four of you."

Taylor stared at Lisa, who stared steadily back. She shook her head. "Wouldn't happen. I hired my teammates to help protect me from Coil until he's caught."

"Hired? How?"

Lisa's eyes gleamed in amusement. "I used the money I stole from Coil to pay them."

Taylor felt anger begin to stir again, which must have registered on her face, as Lisa hastily added, "I didn't do this for the money. But it hurt Coil's ability to attack me. Plus it makes it a lot harder for him to get away. Besides, I have your share ready for you."

Anger grew into astonishment, then confusion. "My share? Why would you give me a share of stolen money?"

"Because when you catch villains, it is acceptable to confiscate any funds that they might have. Mostly. I just took it to its next logical step. You can't say that you don't need the money, Taylor. Anyone could use forty million dollars."

"I don't want it." Taylor's reply was as automatic as her earlier one to Lisa's inquiry on her health, even as she marveled at the sheer amount of money that Lisa had hijacked. The last thing she wanted to do was to take stolen money. To become like the very thing that she fought.

The blonde shrugged, then nodded. "Fine. I'll hold onto it for you, then. It's there if you want it. Even if you only want to give it away to a charity."

"I take it that you paid the others the same amount?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes. As of yesterday, the Undersiders are no longer a gang of villains, cops-and-robbers variety or not. None of them are going to ever need to work again. Alec can live the way he wants. Brian can take care of the things he needs to. Rachel can take care of her dogs. And I can be safe."

Taylor's mind was awhirl. Just like that, a villainous gang was out of the game. It was just one out of many, but it was a start. Not that she planned to steal millions to pay off the others. No, those groups would collapse under the pressure of other circumstances. That she would be the one to apply a great deal of that pressure was certain. She-

"Hey."

Taylor's thoughts were interrupted by Lisa's voice. Green eyes met her own. "Don't get so caught up in looking ahead until we get Coil taken care of. Taylor, he's dangerous. Even with my teammates and you here, I still don't feel safe."

"Fine. I agree that he needs to go down. What can you tell me about where he might be?"

Lisa looked glum. "I can give you the locations of his other bases, but I don't know his civilian identity. I wish I could have afforded to wait to move against him until I had that little tidbit, but when the chance to be free of him came, I had to seize it."

"I take it that the chance you mean is me?" At Lisa careful nod, Taylor harrumphed. She changed the subject. "I wanted to talk to you about something that I ran into down in Coil's base."

Lisa's head came up, her look one of interest. "Shoot."

Assuming that meant assent, Taylor said, "There was a Parahuman down there, named Noelle, enormous and monstrous in appearance. She had these animal looking mouths all over her body, with a more normal human torso sitting atop it. Immensely strong. But the weird thing is that she ate her own teammates, a group that Miss Militia said was called the Travelers, then spat out these twisted clones of them with different versions of their powers."

Lisa didn't look happy. "Jesus, Taylor, that sounds terrifying. Did you see what powers the clones had?"

Taylor described them, and when she was done, Lisa nodded. "That's so fucking crazy. I really hope that the Protectorate plays this smart."

"In what way?"

"Look, I don't know how powerful this cape is. I never encountered her, or even knew about her presence. But if she's as tough as you describe, she might be able to get ahold of any number of capes that end up fighting her. Imagine her with someone like Legend or Alexandria to make clones of. Plus, she eats them, what happens next Endbringer fight?"

Taylor felt a faint shiver travel down her spine, then a corresponding spark of anger. She shook them both off. "Well, maybe she died down there. After all, she's buried under the entire building."

There was more than a trace of doubt in Lisa's face. "Maybe."

They spent the rest of the evening in the living room with the others, watching television. Brian seemed to have calmed down, his aura far more even than earlier. All Taylor got from Alec were sneers, but his emotions were a bit more uncertain. Rachel, on the other hand, was indifferent.

Taylor was just thinking that it might be time to leave, as even her Flight Stick took some time to get from place to place, when the show they were watching about a young team of Parahumans in New York was interrupted.

 _"This is Ted Baxter with Channel Twelve News interrupting your regularly scheduled programming with this special report. We're going to correspondent Lois Hayes in the air over downtown Brockton Bay. Lois, are you there?"_

 _"I'm here, Ted. This is Lois Hayes with Channel Twelve News. I am coming to you from over downtown with this breaking news. There is an unknown group of Parahumans raging through the streets of the downtown area, engaged in battle with members of the Protectorate and Wards. One member is absolutely enormous and has caused a great deal of property damage, She is being aided by allies, a group of human-sized Parahumans with strange appearances, some costumed, some not."_

 _"Lois, do we know why these new Parahumans are acting this way? Have they shown any form of agenda or manifesto? Do they have any demands?"_

 _"Ted, the only thing we do know is that the largest Parahuman has screamed out for Carnelian on multiple occasions. Why this creature is calling for her, what the connection is, we do not know at this time."_

 _The camera view changed to show a spotlight from the news chopper pinpointing something on the ground out of a nightmare. Not much smaller than a Greyhound bus, it was hard to tell much more about it because of how fast it was moving in and out of the light. Around it darted smaller figures, lights and other effects blurring their presences. A figure that must have been Armsmaster hammered one of those smaller figures, the end of halberd tearing completely through it, then back._

 _"Ted, did you see that? Armsmaster just used lethal force! I repeat, Armsmaster just used lethal force! Clearly this is more than it seems. Now, I can see a light brighter than our own searchlight-"_

 _Then the image from the chopper tilted, accompanied by screams. Seconds later, the screen went blank, the last image recorded one of bodies falling in an uncontrolled fashion._

Taylor turned toward Lisa, anger already filling her. For the first time, the other girl didn't flinch. Instead, she sadly stated, "You need to go take care of her, Taylor. _Be careful._ "

Carnelian gave one sharp nod, then donned her helm and headed for the door, wrath filling her. Her foe was alive. And hurting others. Innocents. It was time to put an end to her. Even as she mounted her Flight Stick, she was reaching for the rings at her waist, allowing them to flow onto her fingers, until every inch of space there was taken up.

But even as Wrath filled her, as familiar as a long lost lover, there was a iciness within her, a frozen core that nothing could melt. It kept her centered, even as she pulled more and more of the crimson emotion from her items, pulling it back through herself in a feedback loop, growing ever stronger and stronger.

Her eyes were as cold and merciless as the Arctic, while her heart was filled with Wrath akin to an inferno. A moment later, Carnelian flew out into the night.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Brian stared at his teammate, or former teammate, whatever the case was. "Be careful?" he echoed, aware of just how angry he was.

Lisa didn't look happy any more happy than he was as she responded, "What did you want me to say? Tay... Carnelian was going to go whatever I said."

Brian stood up and began to pace. He was unsure of his exact feelings at that moment. So much had changed in the last forty-eight hours. He'd gone from being nominally being in charge of the Undersiders to being a glorified bodyguard keeping one of his teammates safe.

Should he succeed, he would have all of the money he ever needed, to take care of his sister. To obtain job training for himself. To maybe even eventually send Aisha to college.

He almost snorted at the idea of his little sister going to college. But it was possible. All because of the girl in front of him, as well as indirectly because of the one who had just left.

There were risks, of course, but nothing all that much worse that he'd been dealing with before. Much of Coil's resources had been crippled, so all they really had to deal with was his unknown power, some form of guaranteed victory. Not something he liked, but he'd risk it for forty million dollars.

"Brian, calm down."

"Or what? You won't pay me?"

To his surprise, Lisa didn't respond, instead going over to sit on the couch, her expression almost vacant as she watched the news footage which was being played over and over again.

"What's going on, Lisa?"

There was a look of fear on Lisa's face as she said, "Brian, that thing's too tough for Carnelian. It's too tough for anyone. I can see how this going to play out. We could end up with another Ellisburg. Or worse."

"Fuck!"

How the hell could this be happening, Brian wondered? To make matters worse, Aisha was out there in the city, alone but for their drug-addled mother. He made a decision.

He ran into this room and quickly began donning his costume. From the doorway, he heard, "Brian, what are you doing?"

"I need to go after Aisha. I can't leave her alone in this."

Lisa stared at him, then shook her head. "Look, that would be a mistake. We split up, that thing and its clones will be able to pick us off."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"We'll all go. Get your sister somewhere safe, then go after that thing."

Brian stilled. "Look, I like Taylor as much as anyone, but I'm not going to die for her."

"I'm not asking you to. But that thing out there, Noelle, is an S Class threat. We need to all band together to deal with her, heroes and villains. Finish suiting up, while I tell the others what's up. Then we'll head out together."

When the hell had he lost control of his team, Brian wondered? But as he did exactly as Lisa told him, he knew that there was a new leader of the Undersiders. And her name was Tattletale.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

As Carnelian flew through the air, the wind whistling in her ears, she'd never felt so alive as at that exact moment. For the first time, the power of Wrath, which had nearly made her its slave, now felt more like her servant than her master. It was joy and life and love and everything that mattered all wrapped up together.

She was laughing as she pushed her Flight Stick beyond what it should have been capable of. As she drew a sword that burned with the crimson of Wrath. She laughed from the sheer joy of _being_.

It took mere moments to find the battle. She merely followed the devastation. The scars of battle were everywhere, earth and stone, concrete and steel, all twisted and wrecked as if by the battles of the gods. But these were not gods, but merely men and women who possessed abilities beyond the norm. Parahumans.

Some of them would tear the world asunder if given license. The handful who tried to save the world, the heroes, were outnumbered. It was up to someone like herself, neither hero or villain, to turn the tide.

Moving in a wide arc around the outside of the battle, Carnelian took in what was happening before her. A flash of light heralded the entrance of a new group of heroes teleporting in. Almost before they could settle upon their feet, they were being attacked by a group of twisted clones, some of them recognizable as versions of those she'd fought in Coil's base.

The group being attacked were mostly young, but led by a greybearded elder. She didn't recognize any of them other than the oldest cape, who had to be Myrddin, but did it matter? Carnelian flew into them, leaping off her Flight Stick and landing amidst her foes.

Her sword licked out and removed the head of a youth wearing a costume that appeared to be part of his own skin. Then she did the same to a girl with a tongue like a snake surrounded by balls of pink flames that tried to pull the hilt from her hand. Taking a fresh grip on her sword's hilt, Carnelian continued her attack.

Her Danger Sense screamed and she tumbled gracelessly to one side, before scrambling to her feet. A hulking twisted figure retracted the bone spurs with the odd sparkles that it had been about to impale her with from behind, then it leaped at her, covering twenty feet in one effortless bound.

She had all of the time in the world to see him coming, and used it to swing her sword in a decapitating blow. For just a second, it felt almost like it hung up on something, then the head was bouncing free while the clone's body tumbled to the ground.

The heroes had huddled into a small group for defense, which Myrddin seemed particularly adept at, catching several thrown effects in some kind of pocket dimension. The others did what they could, using effects ranging from some kind of storm to localized earthquakes, fissures opening in the ground around them and trapping clones

Still, the strange effects of the female clones was causing them grief, balls of heat and cold and other, far stranger things impacting around them. And one male clone managed to slam the girl in white into the ground, pinning her there with some kind of force, his hands out in an almost comical display as he did whatever he did.

Carnelian slammed her shield into his back, then triggered ten rings at once, watching his body tear apart under the stresses, pieces landing over and amongst the heroes. Then she spun, stabbing and chopping at the female clones, barely managing to avoid a series of black, bubbling orbs that flew at her.

In seconds, this group was dead, while one of the new capes was down, the one wearing power armor, plates covering his right leg and arm melted and misshapen. Even as his companions gave him first aid and tried to communicate with her, Carnelian's Flight Stick arrived at her side, and she was moving on.

She spun and dodged as she moved forward, her Danger Sense warning her of numerous attacks coming her way. In the distance, she could see Noelle, her aura one of hatred and rage, and zeroed in on her. The area around the creature was utterly flattened, cars and even small buildings destroyed. It was as if she were a nascent Endbringer, destroying the city one section at a time.

Carnelian managed to spin her Flight Stick and bisect a clone, then yet another, its head and upper arms spinning off into space. Then she was getting close, near enough to see the fight that the Protectorate heroes were putting up.

Armsmaster, his blue and silver armor battered, fought far too near the monstrous creature, but was giving a good accounting of himself against the clones. Another cape, whom she didn't recognize, used some immense sword whose blade grew in size, launching out and knocking Noelle back.

Miss Militia laid down a continuous hail of fire, killing several clones, although a few walked through her fire as if immune. A glowing blur hammered a clone into the ground, then was herself knocked flat, only to be rescued by a man who seemed to bounce off the very buildings around him.

Dauntless, his armor, lance, and shield alight with a glaring white fire, swooped in and hammered down two clones, then struck a blow that had Noelle roaring in agony as half a dozen of her legs were severed. Then he was knocked head over heels into a wall, where he was swarmed by massive, densely muscled clones who sought to tear him apart. It was a much battered hero who finally managed to fight his way loose, aided by a blue blur that disappeared a moment later, only to reappear and rescue a civilian.

It was a madhouse, and Carnelian felt it call to her. But with the strange new control that she seemed to have, she could resist. So instead of launching herself at her foe, she called out in a voice like thunder, "Noelle! I am here. Carnelian is here! Face me, Noelle!"

A mere second later, the thing that called itself Noelle screamed its hate and rage from multiple mouths and launched itself at her.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Once Upon A Time

**Chapter Seventeen: Once Upon A Time...**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Carnelian had never felt so alive as she raced toward the great beast. It was as if some esoteric force filled her, pushing to become more than she'd ever been before. Sword facing forward almost like a lance, she rode forward standing almost upright, like St George racing to kill the dragon.

Except this dragon was greater than any faced by mortal man before and it brushed her aside like she was a fly, sending her flying to crash into a building on the other side of the street even as her sword opened up a gaping wound spanning half its body. She was momentarily dazed, but her Regeneration rings quickly firmed up her wits and she was once more astride her steed, moving just before the beast's raging bulk would have crushed her underfoot.

An effort of will and a twitch of her body sent an orb flying free from her to land directly in one of the mouths that covered Noelle's body. A second later, it exploded in a bilious yellow sphere that encompassed most of her gargantuan body. The effect was unexpected.

All over Noelle's body, mouths opened and expelled the contents of disparate stomachs, even the figure atop it heaving desperately. But that figure merely regurgitated vomit, while from the others flew unrecognizable chunks of bodies, other bodies that seemed whole, if twisted, as well as things for which she had no name. It was strange and repelling, and even in the transcendent state she'd entered, Carnelian felt distaste fill her, although more for the mess the other was spreading than anything else. Even as she watched the beast vomit, a huge blade hammered directly into the her front, driving deeply into the front of her body, while blazing beams from aloft burned off half the legs on her left side, temporarily immobilizing her.

Carnelian was just about to attack again, taking advantage of her prey's immobility, when a figure clad in a dark blue bodysuit with a long, flowing cape hanging from his shoulders flew in front of her. "Carnelian! Stop!'

Recognizing a member of the Triumvirate, she paused. There was no feeling of awe within her, she'd long passed beyond such childish things. "What do you want, Legend?"

Legend spoke urgently, "I need you to use that ability as many times as you can. We have to rescue the capes that were trapped within Noelle. Can you do this for me?"

There was a power to the words from the other cape, something Carnelian felt even through the haze that colored the world around her. Involuntarily, her eyes were drawn to the metal-skinned boy who waded into Noelle's side, and with a blade like her own, although his part of his form, struggled to cut into the flesh there and pull out another cape. She noted that amongst the bodies that had already been ejected from Noelle were three that had been descended upon by aerial capes, to be rescued from the mire. The various clones, on the other hand, received an entirely different greeting, being blown apart where they slithered or sprawled.

Her answer could only be one word. "Yes."

Spinning her Flight Stick in mid air, she turned to head directly at Noelle, her speed tremendous. Landing on the creature's back, Carnelian launched half a dozen Regurgitation grenades from her Flight Stick, even as she stabbed her blade deeply in the creatures body, triggering the percussive effect. Wrath blew great chunks of flesh from the beast and the mouths around her screamed their anger and pain, a ceaseless roar that drowned the sounds of the sirens in the distance. Absently, she noted the immunity of the metal boy to her Regurgitation grenades, wondering just what it would take to bring him down.

A moment later, more bodies erupted from Noelle, while at the same time, her flesh attempted to draw Carnelian in, flowing up over her boots like some thick, viscous sludge. Fortunately, her boots were up to the task, sliding free of the mess as her feet danced across the slick, greasy flesh. Unfortunately, none of her efforts seemed to have any real effect upon Noelle, the cape seeming to heal as quickly as she damaged her, while the loss of the capes within her seemed to have no effect.

From high above her, Legend shouted, "Carnelian! They're all clear! Get back!"

Throwing a leg back over her Flight Stick, Carnelian launched herself down and off of Noelle, her Danger Sense telling her when to spin as a tentacle swung viciously at her. Meanwhile, the space where she'd been standing a moment before flared white hot from the dozens of burning beams that impacted the creature.

She hovered a moment up and ahead of the beast, watching a scene from Dante's Inferno. The asphalt of the street flowed like water, little flames traveling along its surface, while the great beast floated therein, shrieking and roaring its agony and hate. Dispassionately, she noted that only the most intense beams seemed to have any real effect upon the creature, burning all the through her flesh and turning it to ash. The rest merely blistered or blackened small areas of her skin, which almost immediately renewed themselves. It was horrifying in a way that she couldn't describe and her eyes wanted to turn a way, something the steel in her spine refused to allow.

Carnelian knew she needed to find a way to deal with this thing, but saw no clear path to do so. She could launch herself over and over again at the other cape in an effort to destroy her, but in a moment of clarity, saw only futility in that approach. The one thing that she _knew_ that would destroy the beast she was loath to use. Those... things were a Pandora's Box that simply should not be opened. Just thinking about them made her feel unclean, as if they polluted everything around them.

While her thoughts raced, her eyes tracked the limp figures of the original capes she'd faced, minus the one in the top hat. They were being placed in the back of a PRT van by troops. There was knowledge there that she needed. With a sharp nod, she headed toward them, moving faster than any car. They would provide the answers required to defeat the beast. Or else.

Landing next to the troops in a move so fast it almost appeared that she'd teleported there, the effects of her arrival were immediate. The troops surrounding her scattered, most of them drawing sidearms or freeing rifles that had been slung over their shoulders, while others pointed the wide nozzles of containment foam launchers at her. Despite all of the weapons pointed her way, Carnelian acted as if they didn't exist as she walked over to the back of the van.

Raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the battle taking place just a couple of blocks away, she said, "I need the information these capes can provide."

Deeming it sufficient information for the troops, something which they seemed disinclined to argue with, she pulled a gauntlet free, placing her bare hand on the neck of the blonde. Pushing a jolt of healing into her, she waited as the girl gave a deep gasping breath as her body was healed of its injuries and purged of the poisons filling it. A moment later, the girl's eyes opened and she threw her arms across her eyes in self defense as the first sight she saw was that of Carnelian's faceless helm.

Cringing away, she cried out, "Get away from me!"

Carnelian's eyes narrowed as she recognized the flare of sheer terror, but fortunately one of the surrounding troops stepped forward and spoke soothingly to the girl. She repeated the treatment to the man, then finally to the other girl, absently noting that her infirmaries went far, far deeper than her teammates'.

It took a few minutes for the newly healed capes to calm down enough to understand what was happening nearby and to regain their composure. Their last memories had been of fighting her in Coil's underground base. Now they'd been newly awakened in the middle of a madhouse, and it frightened and disoriented them. Finally, though, they appeared to be calm enough to answer questions, although the sidelong glances they sent her way seemed filled with uncertainty.

Tamping down on her impatience, Carnelian said for the third time, "What is Noelle?"

"She was our leader." This from the blonde girl, who looked worse for the wear, her hair plastered down by the slime of the creature's digestive juices, or so Carnelian supposed. Her emotions were as much of a mess as the rest of her. Unfortunately, her answer was useless information and it was all she could do not to shout at the girl.

The young man made a pacifying gesture, as if he recognized that she was about to lose all patience. He at least seemed more centered emotionally than his companion. "Look, Noelle can't help what's happening to her. She only got... ahh..."

"Tell me."

The short-haired brunette girl answered. "What Ballistic's trying to say is that Noelle only received a half dose from the vial that gave us our powers. She can't help what's happening to her. She's been getting worse and worse ever since she took it."

That was unlooked for information, but Carnelian savored it as she summed up the girl's answer. "So you all received your powers from vials. Where did you get the vials?"

Instead of answering her, the blonde looked around and plaintively asked, "Where's Krouse and Oliver?"

Forcing down a curse, Carnelian demanded, "Describe them."

The man quickly answered, " _Trickster_ had on a top hat. He was the one who was exchanging you with other people. Oliver was just wearing a blue sweater and slacks."

She filtered through a vague memory of a mass of bodies that had erupted from Noelle a few minutes previously. "Oliver was rescued by the Protectorate and taken away with the rest of the civilians. I haven't seen Trickster. However, I am certain he was dead before Noelle consumed him."

The blonde lowered her head and began to silently cry. Ballistic shook his head. "Jesus. No wonder Noelle went nuts. She and Krouse were close. He was the one who looked after her."

Wearying of their emotional "Tell me about the vials. Tell me now."

The short-haired brunette seemed to recognize her mood, as she cringed slightly, before haltingly saying, "We were involved in a... battle that the... ahh... Simurgh was having with some heroes. We were trying to get away when we found a briefcase with some vials and instructions in them. We drank the vials because we were afraid. But Noelle only took half a dose, while another person took the other half. It... messed her up. I'm sorry that I don't know where the vials came from. So many people there died. Please don't hurt me!"

At that last plaintive cry, the girl seemed to flinch and try to sink into the gurney she was lying upon both at the same time, while the man nervously kept touching a tray full of diagnostic instruments. The blonde, on the other hand, seemed to almost be in shock as she sat there quietly crying.

Suddenly tired of the need to sooth the feelings of these criminals, Carnelian slammed her fist into the side of the van, the metal crumpling like foil. Both the capes and humans around her flinched from the impact, the latter brandishing their weapons once more as their auras glowed with fear. In a voice designed to be heard, she said, "I don't care about who lived and who died. I don't care if you're hurting and afraid. I want to know everything there is to know about Noelle and I want to know it now. Her weaknesses, her fears, what makes her tick. Understand?"

Around her there was a chorus of nods, as even some of the troops joined in. A moment later, they began to talk as Carnelian listened. After a few minutes, she asked pointed questions. Once her subjects seemed drained dry of information, she began to plan. A slow smile creased her lips as she realized exactly what she was needed to do.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Armsmaster grunted in pain as his newest injury, this one to ribs despite his armor, flexed under the impact of yet another blow from a leg like tree trunk. He made an on the fly adjustment to his fighting program, so that he wouldn't fall for the move again. Then he battled on. Around him, the fight wasn't going that well, at least not in his opinion. Fortunately, however, almost all of the clones were finally dead, except for a handful that had fled in the earliest moments of the fight.

Activating his newest invention, a nanothorn attachment for his halberd, he managed to shear through the same leg that had almost crushed him as it attempted to do so using the same move as earlier. Dark satisfaction filled him at the warning he received from his predictive software. Unfortunately, he had to shut the nanothorns off again almost immediately as it began to overheat. At some point, he'd needed to work on that, as it simply wasn't robust enough to use on what he'd really built it for, which was to use against the Endbringers, specifically Leviathan.

A flailing tongue almost grabbed a tumbling Battery as she somersaulted past him, but a crackling blast of force from a figure that he immediately recognized as Eidolon freed her. Armsmaster quickly retreated as the Triumvirate member hammered Hydra with his new ability. Dispassionately, he noted that despite the sheer amount of damage Eidolon did to her, it seemed to have little effect upon her actual ability to fight.

So far, they'd lost nearly two dozen capes to death or crippling injuries. Fortunately, Panacea was back at headquarters in the improvised field hospital they'd set up there. If the fight went on long enough, some of those capes might have to head back into battle. Of course, if they continued being unable to stop Hydra, that possibility would grow into a certainty.

The creature was simply too strong for any of them to face one on one, except, perhaps for the Triumvirate members present. But even they were limited by the creature's ability to absorb and duplicate any capes that came into contact with it as the absorption of one of them would be a near certain disaster.

Early in the fight, they'd nearly been overwhelmed by the creature's clones, as several dozen had erupted from the buildings and sewers around it when they'd first attempted to rescue their young teammate. Not just that, but they'd lost more teammates to the creature, as it ingested, then duplicated them. But as their own numbers had grown, the tide had slowly turned. Carnelian's arrival and subsequent ability to force the creature to regurgitate multiple times, expelling all of the capes and civilians it had ingested, had decreased the pressure still further.

Before her attack, they hadn't even known the people it had eaten were still alive. For that knowledge alone, they owed the vigilante. But it was her ability to force Hydra to lose her most dangerous weapons that was the most valuable, and despite his own dislike for her, Armsmaster was glad she'd decided to join the fight.

Thinking of the dangerously volatile and unstable cape, Armsmaster looked around, trying to spot her. But she was nowhere to be seen. Thinking about it, he couldn't recall seeing her since shortly after her arrival, when she'd attacked Hydra like a mad woman, thus giving them their advantage. Truth be told, he would feel better if he knew what the woman was up to. Ever since the events that had happened involving first Lung, then Bakuda, and finally Gallant, he'd planned to keep a close eye on the other cape, somehow curbing her excesses, if that were even possible.

Even Director Piggot, who at one time had been Carnelian's biggest supporter, had found her enthusiasm waning as more time passed with constantly escalating crises. This latest, attacking some unknown Thinker's redoubt, thereby unleashing the creature they'd had to call in the Triumvirate to fight, was the final straw, or so he hoped. If she managed to push things from here, it would likely end in the city becoming one giant smoking crater.

Ahead of him, the latest attack by Eidolon finally ceased, and Armsmaster was dismayed to find Hydra easily moving again, as if almost immediately recovered from its effects. What did it take to stop her, he wondered? Having fought all three of the Endbringers, as well as a host of other dangerous villains over the years, nothing could truly daunt him. But the creature in front of him was definitely a major danger and shouldn't have dismissed as a relatively minor threat when she was first reported.

Armsmaster ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head that reminded him that it was Carnelian's own report that had been ignored. But without any corroborating evidence, it had been difficult to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. In the end, the Director had ordered a watch on the collapse site be kept, but nothing beyond that.

Suddenly, Armsmaster's attention was pulled from his thoughts as a streak entered his field of vision. He had only a split second to register Carnelian's presence on that flight device she used, sword extended before her, before she impacted directly into Hydra's body. There was another of those strange, soundless explosions as material on and around the site of the impact was sent flying, then the girl's slim form disappeared into Hydra's body while the device she'd been aboard went tumbling end over end past the impact site to crash into the wall of a nearby building.

What the hell had that maniac done now, he wondered, feeling more than a little shocked and horrified at the thought of having to fight a dozen clones of the girl. No matter what variations of her powers they possessed, it would be a complete nightmare. Even though it was probably already known by anyone who'd been tabs on the fight, Armsmaster opened a com channel and made an announcement that would be heard by everyone there. "Attention. This is Armsmaster. The vigilante cape known as Carnelian has been taken by Hydra. Use extreme prejudice in dealing with any clones she might produce. Be careful, people. Carnelian is extremely dangerous, as will be her clones. Armsmaster out."

Yet as the seconds, then minutes ticked past, neither he, nor anyone else saw hide nor hair of clones. The battle continued, just without the presence of either Carnelian or a clone of hers from Hydra.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

"Jesus Christ! What the hell has been going on here?" Brian knew his words were incongruous with the almost sepulchralvoice he cultivated, but at that moment, he simply didn't care. The devastation they were walking into had his bowels clenching in reaction, while his paranoia climbed into the stratosphere. His darkness, which had been leaking from him almost involuntarily, seemed to gather around him in a defensive measure as their group came to a brief halt.

The landscape ahead of them appeared to be something out of a war zone. The streets were ripped and torn, as if tanks, or something even larger and heavier, had traveled across them. At the same time, the surrounding buildings looked battered and broken, gaping holes everywhere, as if giants had waged battle among them wielding huge sledgehammers.

"Grue, be careful. There's something happening ahead of us. Maybe an ambush."

Tattletale's urgent whisper made him hesitate, then he gestured for Bitch to order her dogs forward ahead of them. While they did so, Brian began to produce even more darkness, pushing it out until it left them safely isolated within a small cul-de-sac, the devastation around them now mostly hidden from view.

"There's an attack coming from our right!" Tattletale shouted, while dropping to the ground and pulling her gun.

How the hell the girl did her thing without even being able to see was something he probably never understand. But Tattletale had been right too many times for Grue to ignore her now. He, too, dropped, as did their remaining two teammates, as a hail of small, rapidly moving, glowing blue spheres blew through their oasis at chest level.

While noticeably reduced by his darkness, they were not stopped, and quickly impacted the building on the left, leaving a series of meter-sized craters behind. What they'd do to a human being was unthinkable. Brian shouted, "Don't get hit by a sphere. They're deadly."

Two figures spilled out of the building which had been the source of the blue spheres and ran towards them. Undeterred by his darkness, they plunged right in. "Bitch, two on our right coming out of my darkness in five. Tattletale, watch our off side in case it's a feint!"

His blonde teammate simply nodded, while Bitch quickly made a series of whistles and hand gestures which caused two of her dogs to spin around and lope over to stand next to her. When the two figures, which now he could tell where more of the twisted clones from the news, burst out of his darkness, she called, "Brutus, Angelica, kill!"

The two dogs, the size of sedans, jumped the two figures, who went down before them. One managed to get off a single blue bolt, which sailed straight up into the air as Alec made his presence known, then there was only the gruesome sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing as her dogs literally tore the clones apart.

"I've never been so glad for a blanket kill order than right now," Tattletale exclaimed, climbing to her feet. She glanced over towards the scattered pieces of the two dead clones, made a faint moue of distaste, and said, "Let's go. If there's more of them, we don't want to give them time to gang up on us."

Brian grimly nodded. Raising his voice slightly, he said, "Let's go, people. Keep a careful watch. And no playing around. This is life or death."

Fortunately, they did not run into any more of the clones, twisted or otherwise. Instead, the clamor of battle grew in front of them, making each of them more and more tense, until the air itself almost seemed to vibrate. The sounds they heard ranged from the ringing of metal on metal, although magnified a hundredfold, to a series of burning, ripping, and tearing noises. Some of them were eerily reminiscent of the sounds that Bitch's dogs had made tearing the clones apart, except louder, and Brian couldn't for the life of him figure out their source. Or be certain he even wanted to.

Finally, though, they burst out onto a street that gave a sight-line directly to the battle. Less than two blocks away, something gargantuan roared its defiance of the capes flying around it, as they sent beams and other attacks into its torn, bleeding flesh.

One of those capes circled around and approached, a moment later hovering near them. With distaste, Brian noted that Glory Girl looked more than a little bedraggled, her usually white skirt and top now a vomit-inducing shade of grayish green. "What do _you_ assholes want?"

Tattletale stepped forward, a wide grin gracing her lips as she obviously tried to contain her mirth at the other's condition. "We're here to help. Ahh... you've got a little something on your costume."

Glory Girl frowned, and Brian felt a strange sense of fear filling him at the sight of her displeasure. Next to him, Tattletale's amusement faded as she spoke sharply to the other cape, "Cut the shit, Glory Hole. Your aura's messing with my team. Don't make me call in a violation of the Truce."

The other cape nodded brusquely and the fear quickly faded. Brian decided he didn't like anyone who could mess with his mind like that. At least with Lisa, he had the chance to resist her words. That had been too akin to mind control to want to deal with it again.

"There's a Truce on, as you so eloquently stated, so you can join. But you'll need to obey orders from Protectorate members. Armsmaster's in overall charge, but the Triumvirate are here, as well as several Protectorate teams from around the country. You also need to check in to get armbands. The check in post is five blocks the other side of the fight."

Tattletale held up a peremptory hand. "Actually, if you'll just point us in the direction of Carnelian, that's good enough."

Glory Girl sneered down at her. "Oh, is that all?"

"Yes."

The flying cape gestured behind her. "There you go. Have fun."

Brian looked at where the girl was pointing, trying to locate Carnelian in that mess, but saw no one that matched the girl's description. When Tattletale remained uncharacteristically silent, he demanded, "What do you mean?"

"She means that Carnelian's inside of Noelle."

Brian gave Tattletale a look of disbelief, but noted the smug smile on Glory Girl's face. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Glory Girl started moving away from them. "Nope. She pulled a Jonah and flew right into Hydra, the fucking idiot. That's what they're calling her. The monster, that is. The other part's just me. Now I have to get back."

With that, the blonde cape flew away. Regent gave her a disdainful glance, pithily saying, "Cunt."

Tattletale wearily said, "She's probably mad because of what happened to her boyfriend, Gallant."

Mystified, Brian asked, "What do the Wards have to do with any of this?"

Tattletale shrugged. "Nothing important. Let's go and get those armbands. It looks like we might be here for a while."

He grabbed Tattletale's arm as she started to leave. She didn't try to pull free, merely meeting his gaze evenly. "You sure you want to do this? It exposes us to Coil. He's not going away just because we're in a truce situation. It's a huge risk."

For just a moment, Tattletale looked slightly uncertain, but that quickly faded. "My power tells me this is the best way forward. I need... _we_ need Carnelian. She's the best way to get away from Coil. And _she_ needs _us_."

Tattletale's last sentence was said in a low tone almost too quiet for Brian's hearing, but he just caught it. Letting go of her arm, he gestured for her to lead the way, while the others fell into rough semicircle behind them.

Following Tattletale's lead, Brian hoped that she knew what she was doing. Personally, he wanted nothing to do with anything that could do the things he'd seen traveling through the devastation. He felt a visceral shiver of fear travel down his spine as a primal roar echoed through the concrete canyons around them. Then another. He hurried to stay with his team.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Eidolon released the kinetic energy ability he'd been using on Hydra, going through the powers that manifested one at a time within him as replacements.

He immediately dropped the energy projection power that came up next, deeming it too close to what Legend already possessed and no more powerful. He briefly hesitated over a power that allowed him to disintegrate matter, but ultimately dismissed it, as its range was too limited at only three feet. Then another power grew into place, one that he found intriguing.

His new power, one that he would call transmutation, seemed to be one that would allow him to turn a large mass into something else. Eerily reminiscent of some of the effects of Bakuda's bombs, the effect should allow him to stop Hydra by turning her entire being into something else, of which stone seemed easiest to manage. Regardless, it would not be something she would survive.

The power's only drawback was that it could not work on something who was moving too quickly, needing as much as a minute for the effects to slow the target sufficiently for them to be unable to escape. Speaking into his armband, he alerted Dragon as to what he needed, then waited as she communicated to other capes who would help make it happen.

He winced as they lost Wonder Boy to a blow and charge that left him a thin red smear on the pavement. Then his armband finally chimed.

"Eidolon."

Dragon's voice sounded in his earpiece. "Eidolon, you're a go to use your new ability against Hydra. Chevalier and Alexandria will be executing a pincer attack upon her, her using a girder and he using his Cannonblade, which should pin her in place long enough for your attack to take hold. Legend will provide support."

He started to reply, then paused. Finally, he asked, "What about the vigilante cape that was ingested a few minutes ago? Carnation, I think? Do we have a plan to get her out?"

"It's Carnelian. She's been deemed an acceptable loss by Director Costa-Brown. Please proceed with your plan. Dragon out."

Eidolon hung there a moment, then watched as Chevalier was dropped directly in front of Hydra by one of their flyers, staying just outside of her range, then fired his Cannonblade into the creature's chest, the impact thunderous as it brought her to a halt. A second later, Alexandria plunged down from the sky with an immense steel girder in her hands, which she used to impale Hydra, pinning her to the ground like an oversized butterfly. Her attack was followed up by Legend arriving and burning off most of the creature's legs, drawing louder screams and more energetic motions as she struggled to escape.

Eidolon didn't waste any time, dropping like a rock using the anti-gravity power he'd kept. He came to a stop only twenty feet above the struggling cape, easily within reach of her tentacles and tongues. _If_ she knew he was there. Fortunately, she didn't, her entire attention focused upon regrowing her limbs and getting loose from the girder pinning her to the ground.

He released his new power upon Hydra, which manifested as a series of white sparkles that floated down onto the creature, looking almost like snowflakes, each sparkle having just a little effect. At first, only tiny parts of the creature's skin began to change, turning brittle and gray. In less than a minute, her struggles noticeably decreased. In five, she was almost completely frozen in place as Eidolon continued to pour the sparkles over where she stood, even her coloring changing to that of weathered stone. A few minutes later, and he stopped spreading the effects of his power. It was over.

In ten minutes time, he'd turned the monster that had terrorized Brockton Bay into a mere statue, one that would need to be demolished so as to not remind people of the horror of what had happened. Alighting next to the stone figure, he was soon joined by his fellow Triumvirate members Alexandria and Legend.

Legend looked uneasy as he stared at the beast's stony hide. "Is she dead?"

Alexandria's cool, clipped tones sounded as she said, "Almost certainly, though we need to check. Do we have anyone here who can sense minds or possesses any kind of life-sensing ability?"

Eidolon shook his head. "No, I don't think so. The only person I can think of with that second ability is Bloodborne out of Seattle. The Protectorate West Northwest didn't come for this, as focused as they are on the Renegade situation."

Legend seemed to grow more ill at ease. "Eidolon, can you try to call up a power to check? I don't want to think of anyone still being alive in there. Carnelian wasn't a Protectorate member, but she did try to help."

If anyone else had asked him, it was possible he would have refused, but the two of them had shared too much to say no to one another. So instead, Eidolon nodded tersely, then set out to try to figure out a way to sense whether anyone was still alive in there.

It took nearly ten tries before anything even remotely useful manifested, but finally something akin to a life sense filled him. In actuality, it was an anti-life sense more than anything else, allowing him to know what wasn't alive.

He briefly tested it on his surrounding, easily discerning the concrete and other man-made materials from the dirt and plants. Even then, only the deeper parts of the man-made materials possessed the requisite qualifications to perfectly show up on his new sense, blazing white to him, unlike the foggier areas where life, mostly consisting of bacteria, existed.

Satisfied that it would work, Eidolon turned his power onto the immense statue looming over him and his comrades. The surface showed to be mostly life free, as it hadn't existed long to accumulate that many microbes. It blazed white and gleaming to his sense.

But when he went deeper, the view began to fog. He lost it entirely when he penetrated a certain amount beneath the surface. What the hell?

Alexandria was the one to notice his preoccupation. "What's going on, Eidolon? Is Hydra still alive?"

"I don't know. But something's fogging an anti-life sense I managed to bring up. I-"

"The statue's moving!"

Legend's alarmed voice, accompanied as it was by a faint, grinding sound, had the three of them moving back away from the massive figure. Once a hundred feet lay between them and their former foe, they stopped and watched Hydra's body for any signs of life. Over the next several minutes, nothing seemed to be happening.

However, to Eidolon's new sense, the life seemed to be flooding back into the other cape, as if she was regenerating from within. Resigned, he prepared to continue the battle. Rising into the air, he dropped the anti-life power and searched for something new and deadly. Finding just what he was searching for, he began charging it, prepared to destroy the other cape once it was ready.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

From a block away, the Undersiders watched as the three most famous members of the Protectorate stood next to their vanquished foe. Lisa felt her stomach drop as she realized that Taylor was still inside of the pile of stone that just a few minutes ago had been the most monstrous cape she'd ever personally seen.

Her power had supplied her with information about the other cape, from her psychological profile to how quickly she could spit out clones of capes she ingested versus ordinary people, but none of it had interested her. Instead, what had gotten her attention had been the way she strange Case 53 cape had moved, the tiny hitches in her gait, as if she'd eaten something that hadn't agreed with her.

But it hadn't mattered, as a moment later, capes including Chevalier, Legend, and Alexandria had stopped Noelle's progress, pinning her to the ground, while overhead, Eidolon had used a terrible power to transmute her into stone. The details of that particular power were some that Lisa wished she'd never learned, as it had never been meant as a combat power, instead designed to torture captives.

But it had sufficed to take down Noelle. Now the city was safe and her new... friend was dead. It surprised her how much she grieved over the other girl, whose fate shouldn't be that big of deal to her. Somehow the girl's death seemed to gnaw at her insides as intensely as if she'd known her for years. Lisa refused to dwell in self-analysis and draw parallels between this and her own past. Instead, she started to turn away when one last thing caught her eye.

Legend, who had been resting a hand upon the mass of stone, had just jumped, as if he'd been startled. Pouring out her power like water, Lisa pushed for details from the other cape.

 _Felt something moving under his hand. Stone trembling as if motivated by some inward force. Fears that Hydra lives._

Turning her attention upon Eidolon, Lisa again used her power on the cape.

 _Life sensing- no, anti-life sensing power activated. Seeing signs of life where life shouldn't exist. Is preparing himself to continue the battle._

As a matter of reflex, even as the first stirrings of a truly epic migraine began in the back of her head, Lisa turned her power finally towards Alexandria, who was speaking rapidly over her communicator. Her eyes widened as information flooded her pain-filled mind, the details of which she could barely believe. Talk about a political powder keg, she thought, refusing to dwell on something that didn't matter to the task on hand.

Head throbbing, she gestured her team forward, turning her attention back towards the monstrous figure of stone.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Carnelian dwelled in darkness, feeling almost as if she was suffocating despite the fact that she had more than enough air to breath normally. She was within the belly of the beast and around her, her enemy's insides carried out the tasks for which they had been tasked.

Her enemy. The name thundered through her head, filling her with wrath, which pulsed through her items and devices until she wanted to push that emotion out from her until the world burned. She would turn this monstrosity inside out, ripping it into a million pieces from within as she could never do from without.

But one thing prevented her from doing so, stopping in her tracks as surely as if an unbreachable wall stood between them. That was the miasma of grief that lay over everything that surrounded Taylor, like a thick and choking blanket.

Wrath still ran within the monstrous cape, crimson flaring over and over again, as did darker emotions, as rage and hate vied for supremacy. At a far deeper level than those surface feelings lay enormous pools of pain and agony, the emotions horrifyingly reminiscent of Carnelian's own just months before.

In a hospital room at night, as she relieved the pain and agony of her feelings for Sophia Hess, then again in an alley behind the PRT itself, as she lived a betrayal that almost stole the very life from her, even as she crafted the death of the one who lay behind it all.

Hate and death. Pain and betrayal. A loneliness that seemed without limits, as the world left her behind to slowly waste away, turning into a monster that would eventually horrify everyone around her. Were these feelings coming from within Noelle, or what she felt herself? It was too terribly a parallel with her own self for Carnelian to ignore and she was pulled deeper into the morass before her, exploring feelings that were all too human.

It was at the very base of the pools of strong and primal emotions, that she found the person that Noelle had once been. The person that felt like she was losing herself. The person whose self-hatred beggared the imagination. The emotions there waned and flickered as the human being she'd once been was overwhelmed by something that no one should experience.

Taylor felt a tear slowly slide down her cheek as her own Wrath guttered, then went out. Against her will, empathy blazed as she found more of a kinship to this monster than she'd truly felt for most of the people around her since she'd become Carnelian. Because she was as much of a monster as the other, remembering the unspeakable things she'd wanted to do to those who tried to oppose her. The things she had done to some of them.

It brought out a truth that Taylor had hitherto kept hidden from herself for the danger of it.

A person couldn't just be Wrath. The seductive path of anger and rage would eventually lead to a depth of madness and destruction that would ultimately doom everything she wanted to do, to become. Taylor cried harder as even now the siren call of crimson emotion pulled at her in a way that she could just barely resist. Just when she needed to be at her strongest, she felt weaker than at any time since she'd become a cape.

Dimly, Taylor was aware of Noelle's power attacking her armor, slowly eating away at the material, as it tried to get to her, to copy all that she was, twisting her into a version of herself that would kill everyone she'd ever known. The emotions of the clones had been easy to sense, as all they'd cared for was death and destruction, until the very world burned and they burned with it. She knew that she couldn't allow the other to sow any more destruction.

But what could she really do? Carnelian had been filled with a gestalt of mad rage, her mind believing that if she could just breach her enemy's inner being, she could destroy her from within. It might not have even been that bad a plan, if Taylor were still that person. But the very thought of using her sword and grenades to tear the girl, whose emotions now seemed a part of her, apart from the inside out sickened her. It was almost as bad as the thought of going home and retrieving one of those terrible things she'd made once upon a time to use upon the girl. There _had_ to be a better way.

But how? Could she reach the girl with her power? Taylor remembered how it had felt to heal Gallant, pushing the emotions she'd felt into the other cape, pulling him back from the brink of madness. But Noelle wasn't Gallant, pushed into a form of insanity because of his ability to so deeply experience Carnelian's own power. Instead, she, if anything, was already strolling down insanity lane, because of how horrific her situation had become.

Worse, she now perceived that her killing the top hat wearing cape had broken something within Noelle, as a chaotic kaleidoscope of emotions pulsed and swirled through the other cape. It was part and parcel with the grief the girl felt, as her pain and madness pressed against Taylor, threatening to push her from her fragile perch back into her own morass of feelings, Wrath still dominant there.

Trying to reduce that chance, Taylor mentally pushed her Wrath rings from her hands and back into their pouch at her side, instantly missing their weight and heft upon her fingers. But she pushed that feeling aside, focusing instead upon what she needed to do.

Not that she really understood that exact thing all that well herself. Taylor thought that maybe, just maybe, if she could somehow pull the other girl back from the brink of madness, she could find a way to get through to her. So she began to try to compile and gather a list of emotions she thought she'd need to accomplish such a task. She stopped almost immediately, momentarily daunted at the immensity of her task. Centering herself, she tried again.

First, Taylor touched calmness, an ordered mixture of a soft blue and an even gentler green, allowing it to form the base of what she was trying to do. Noelle would need it when she came out of this if she were to ever recover. To that, she added peace, as blue as the sky on a summer's day. Cheer, the yellow of a dandelion, followed, then she cautiously added just a dollop of spirit to it, violet and beautiful enough to bring a tear to her eye, tenderness the emotion she anchored it to.

Now completely involved in her craft, Taylor reached for more components to complete her sending. Gray for stability and security was followed by an empathetic pinkness. From somewhere deep inside of her, she pulled out five shades of white, pushing emotions ranging from hope to purity of intention into her mixture.

Releasing her grip upon her sword, as she needed to shape what she was creating more exactly, Taylor searched for just the right shade of earthen brown that represented friendship, such as what she felt for Lisa. Added to the mix, she approved the blend before browsing the brighter, more powerful emotions. Orange she sampled for courage, to help someone go on despite the odds against them.

Hesitating just a moment, she touched reds, but not the crimsons of anger and wrath, but instead, that of passion, life, and energy. Lastly, she touched green again, the viridianof life, of healing and growth. That went into the creation she shaped, as her fingers pulled the colors into the amorphous form that grew both within and without her.

A moment later, Taylor grew distracted as something changed in the environment around her. Alarmed, she noticed the way the emotions Noelle felt were dulling, as if she was fading away. Something dark and evil was happening to the other cape, and it threatened to derail what she was doing. But Taylor pushed forward with her work, against all resistance.

Then her fingers, which had been able to move almost freely as they weaved together something esoteric within the confines of Noelle's body, began to encounter greater resistance. Desperate, Taylor continued composing her epic, as her own limbs grew stiff and her armor began to change around her.

The effect was starting to touch her very skin when Taylor reached out and dropped the tiniest hint of black into her witch's brew in a desperate effort to somehow free herself from the trap she was within. To leaven the hate, she pushed both the purity of her love for her father as well as that for her long lost mother, into her mixture right alongside it. Finished, the amalgam lay both within and without her, as a feeling of glory rose inside of her, infinitely proud to have shaped something so complex and beautiful .

Taylor now couldn't really move, her own body changing and stiffening, sending tendrils of agony through her form. Fighting the feeling were the rings of Regeneration she wore, but they were struggling, the power behind the effect that tore at her immense. The change made a another tiny advance into her body, and she bit back a scream. More difficult, she could no longer breath, as whatever had been within her armor that allowed that to happen, stopped working now that her armor was mostly gone.

Only her boots and shield, as well as a few other individual items remained. Knowing that it was now or never, Taylor released her creation into the void around her, then waited, feeling darkness beckon.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Lisa felt her pulse accelerate as the mass of stone began to visibly shake. She broke into a run, ignoring Brian's shout of "Tattletale!" She raced forward, struggling to cover the hundred yards in front of her as quickly as possible, as the mass began to break apart.

She screamed, "Stop! Leave her alone!" in an effort to prevent the hovering capes from attempting a preemptive attack upon the inhabitants of the stone figure that was slowly, _visibly_ falling apart. As she struggled to speak despite her frantic gasps, Lisa had more evidence that Brian was right about his ideas of physical fitness. If Taylor was killed because she was too out of breath to make a coherent argument, that would be terribly ironic.

Still, she managed to get out a reasonable shout between heaving breaths, "Carnelian's″ gasp ″alive!″ gasp ″Don't″ gasp ″attack!″ gasp ″You'll″ gasp ″kill her!″ gasp ″Don't attack!"

Lisa nearly flinched as Eidolon flew over to hover just above her. To calm herself, she reached over and touched the shaking stone, feeling the vibration to her very core. He demanded, "What do you mean? How can she be alive? I turned Hydra to stone and she was inside of the other cape."

Telling one of the members of the Triumvirate that they were an idiot was not something even Lisa relished doing, so she kept quiet. Instead, she merely pulled back her hand and pointed as the stone next to them started to dissolve, as if it were no more than fog evaporating in the morning sun. A moment later, that fog cleared to show the curled up figures of two young women, one nude, while the other was only wearing boots and a belt, as well as a few other items, with her modesty and identity only barely protected by the shield partially covering her.

Lisa stepped forward despite Eidolon's warning of "Don't touch her."

Reaching out to place her hand on the bare skin of Taylor's shoulder, Lisa was relieved to feel the warmth of someone alive. She called, "Regent, bring me your shirt. We need to cover up."

"Really? Let me see," Alec said with a leer. A few seconds later, he pulled his shirt over his head, and tossed it to Lisa, leaving his pale, underdeveloped upper body visible. Oddly, he didn't seem that interested in her charge, instead watching Eidolon while casually twirling his scepter.

Lisa managed to pull her spare mask from a pocket in her belt and get it on Taylor before attempting to wrestle the girl into her shirt. She was just about to ask Brian to help when she became aware of the legs that had stepped into her view. Looking up, she froze, as an overload of Protectorate glory filled her sight.

Between her and her team stood Alexandria and Legend, joining Eidolon in carefully studying the two girls who lay there, as well as Lisa, herself. Meeting the female cape's eyes, she noted the cool, dispassionate gaze that studied her back, before flitting over the rest of the scene. There was a sense of vindictiveness as she realized she knew the other's secret. It also filled her with an urgent need to taunt the other. Lisa managed to keep her mouth shut, though, waiting for them to make the first move. Finally, Alexandria asked, "What do you think you're doing? Tattletale, is it?"

Lisa swallowed. "Yes, my name is Tattletale. As to what I'm doing, I'm protecting my teammate's identity."

There was a calm logic in the other cape's voice as she questioned, "Your teammate? Since when has Carnelian been a member of the Undersiders?"

Lisa felt the pressure increase to push the other cape, and firmly tamped down on that side of herself. "She's not, as there is no Undersiders anymore. But _I_ am her teammate. I'm not an Undersider anymore."

Alexandria's voice seemed to draw careful conclusions from the data before her, her glances sharp and incisive. "Yet here you stand, next to all of the members of the Undersiders, a team you claim no longer exists. Just why is that?"

Fortunately, Brian rescued her from telling Alexandria to go fuck herself, as he said, "We're Tattletale's bodyguards. She hired us to protect her for a limited time. Once that's done, we're all going all separate ways."

Before Alexandria could ask another question, Lisa pounced on her. "What does it even matter? Isn't there a truce on while an S class threat is dealt with for everyone involved?"

Legend spoke, heading off his teammate, who looked like she wanted to take Lisa's head off, "Yes, there is. For anyone who fought against Hydra or her clones. I'm afraid I didn't see any of you actually fighting. You appeared to get here too late."

"We fought two of those clones on the way. Crazy bastards nearly killed us. Bitch's dogs finished them off." This was Alec, who didn't seem even slightly nervous in dealing with the Triumvirate. It was an advantage of sociopathic tendencies that Lisa hadn't appreciated before today.

"Uuuhhhh..."

The figure in her arms stirred. Lisa bent down and asked clearly, "Carnelian are you all right?"

It took a moment, but more than a moan finally came out of Taylor as she half lay in Lisa's lap. "G-god, no. I feel like crap. What the hell happened? I thought I was turning to stone." As she spoke, the girl turned her head, looking up from where she was laying. Fortunately, her identity was safe because of the domino mask Lisa had put on her earlier. Then she seemed to take note that she was nearly naked and went, "Eep!" clutching the shirt that she had partially draped over the girl.

Legend leaned down slightly and asked, "Carnelian, do you know these capes? Are you safe with them?"

Taylor's eyes darted all around, seemingly taking in more than just the mere presence of those around her. Reading their auras, Lisa realized, as the girl nodded. "Yes, I know them. We've helped one another in the past. I'm fine with them." A second later, she finally seemed to realize just who was asking, causing her to turn first white, then a rosy red.

Lisa didn't need her powers to know that Taylor was feeling awe at encountering one of Triumvirate without the sheltering influence of her alter ego which appeared to temporarily be in abeyance. She managed to help the girl into Alec's shirt without her flashing anyone, then they rose to their feet. Fortunately, the shirt was long enough to just cover the essentials, although her long, slim legs above her silver boots were left mostly exposed.

"Is Hydra alive?"

Lisa spun so fast she nearly fell over, only Taylor strong grip around her waist keeping her upright at Armsmaster's voice. She had only a moment to realize that they were literally surrounded by dozens of members of the Protectorate as all of the formerly battling capes gathered in the aftermath.

"She's alive," Taylor assured them, even if her own voice was only an echo of Carnelian's. "I managed to fix her."

It was Miss Militia who asked, "What was wrong with her? How did she become... that?"

Before Taylor could answer, Alexandria spoke authoritatively, "That's not important right now. We need to get Hydra into containment until we know what effect Carnelian has had upon her power. In the meantime, we need to work on getting help to any casualties and to make sure all of the capes here that might have injuries get healed. Let Armsmaster or Miss Militia know if anyone needs help getting back to PRT Headquarters where Panacea's waiting to help."

Nice segue and distraction, Lisa thought. She noted the way Taylor's jaw clenched at the woman's words, and couldn't wait to hear whatever was behind that story. It was sure to be awesome.

After most of the others had scattered, taking away Noelle in mass of containment foam, Lisa suggested, "How about we get out of here?"

Taylor sighed, then agreed, "Yeah, okay. I really need to get some sleep. Want a ride?" She gestured towards her Flight Stick which had appeared from nowhere to hover next to her.

Lisa grinned as she said, "Sure you want to climb onto that thing wearing only Regent's shirt?"

Turning a red so bright it emulated her descriptions of her Wrath items, Taylor shook her head. "Maybe I'll just walk."

From behind them, a voice called out, "Carnelian!"

The two girls turned around to see Gallant approaching them, the rest of the Wards a few steps behind. A moment later, the boy, his usually gleaming power armor now spattered with vestiges of Noelle's substance, stood before them. Lisa could feel her team gathering at her back, their tension ratcheting up at being confronted yet again. She recognized the boy's stance and made a subtle gesture that Brian would hopefully recognize as standing down. Then she settled in place, ready to be entertained.

Gallant cleared his throat. "Carnelian, I just wanted to say that I appreciate you healing me." He hesitated, and Lisa noted the way his gaze seemed to travel down Taylor's bare legs. Then he almost flinched, before saying, "I'm sorry to have held a grudge against you for so long."

At Lisa's side, Taylor seemed at a loss for words. Finally, she managed, "Thank you?"

"You don't have to thank me. It was the right thing to say. Ahh... are you sure you want to leave with these... individuals? We can offer you a ride home. It's the least we can do for all of your help."

"I'm fine."

"Very well. If you need any help in the future, don't hesitate to ask me. I'll leave you to it."

With that, Gallant turned and walked away, quickly lost in the middle of the mass of his teammates, who she didn't need her power to know were asking questions of the boy. Lisa had more than enough of her own, but wouldn't have minded listening to the ones they were posing either. A moment later, her train of thought was interrupted by Brian saying, "Tattletale, no matter how much you want to, you still can't hear something from that far away. Can we go now?"

There was the faintest giggle from the girl whose arm Lisa was still holding, startling her just a bit. There was something just the slightest bit off about Taylor since she'd awoken, and she was looking forward to using her power to figure out exactly what that something was. Wincing as her migraine flared, Lisa decided that she would be looking forward to it only once her head no longer felt it was about to pull a Nagasaki. For now, she'd just have to wait. Compared to what Taylor had already just gone through, how bad could it be?

After all, they had their fairy tale ending. They had all survived. Carnelian had vanquished the monster, as well as saving the person she'd been once upon a time . A small personality change probably wasn't anything significant.

Or so Lisa really, really hoped.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~


	18. Chapter Eighteen: In the Dark Days That

**Chapter Eighteen: In the Dark Days That Lie Ahead**

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Taylor felt more than a little surreal as she walked down the street almost naked, surrounded by the members of the Undersiders. Or, if Lisa was to be believed, what _used_ to be the Undersiders.

At her side, Lisa asked, "Want to fill me in on what Alexandria was trying to hide?"

Did she? Taylor thought about it for just a second, then slowly nodded her assent. "Sure, I guess. The Travelers got their powers from vials, not the usual way. She was trying to hide that, so I guess that means she already knew that vials like that existed, as well as that being the way the Travelers got their powers. I could see it in her aura."

For a brief moment, there was almost a transcendent look upon Lisa's face, then she winced so hard she stumbled. It was only Taylor's lightning quick reflexes, still boosted by her boots, that allowed her to catch the girl's elbow. She slid an arm around the other girl and pressed her fingers against the skin exposed by her costume at her neck.

Pushing healing into Lisa, Taylor chided, "You know I can heal your headaches. All you have to do is let me know you're hurting."

From behind them, Alec drawled, "I have an ouchie if you're healing."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Liar."

Lisa seemed to have recovered and gently shook off Taylor's arm. "Thanks for that. Sorry, it just overwhelmed me with how much crap's been going on. Shit! That bitch! I knew she was hiding something, but not that she was hiding _that_."

She looked contemplative for a moment, then a gleeful look crossed her face. "You know, if we wanted to fuck the Protectorate over for what they did to you, this would be the perfect means."

Taylor nodded absently, thinking about the weave she'd created to cure Noelle, when she was suddenly was struck by Lisa's words. "What exactly happened, anyway? I was working on fixing Noelle from within when everything started changing. It was almost as if I was turning to stone." She shivered as she remembered the strange, draining sensation of becoming something else as she'd slowly grown more and more unable to move.

Oddly, it wasn't Lisa who answered, but Brian, who was walking just ahead of them. His tone carefully neutral, he said, "Eidolon used some kind of transmutation power to turn her to stone with the help of the other members of the Triumvirate. It didn't seem to matter to them that you were inside of her at the time. I... _we_ thought you were dead."

Emotion leaked into that last sentence, as if something powerful was starting to break loose within him. When Taylor used her power on Brian, his aura was filled with an enormous variance of shades of crimson. For some reason, he was beyond furious. Glancing over at Lisa to see what her take on this was, she saw the faintest smug smile on the blonde's face. Her aura had a sense of satisfaction to it that was even more puzzling.

Well, given time, and maybe a little rest, she thought with a yawn, she'd figure out what all of those mysterious emotions were. Until then, she'd stay focused on the here and now, firmly pushing aside the emotions of the people around her as well as thoughts of what she'd done to Noelle. In the resulting mental lull, her attention turned to Eidolon.

Taylor didn't exactly know how she felt about the fact that at least one of the Triumvirate had tried to kill her, and maybe all of them. It didn't make her happy, but neither did it distress her unduly. She knew they had their reasons for wanting to stop Noelle as soon as possible if for no other reason than how destructive the other had been. How dangerous to the public. That was something she could relate to.

On the other hand, finding out that some people were getting powers artificially, something that apparently Alexandria knew about and wanted to hide, wasn't something that particularly pleased her.

She was musing on exactly what was going on when a sudden thought hit her. Her dad didn't know she was all right. And after the hell that had occurred Downtown, he was sure to be freaking out. Fortunately, they were nearly to the building which the Undersiders called home.

Taylor turned to Lisa who said, "Of course you can use the phone inside to call your dad. But you really should get a cell phone."

Giving the blonde know it all a glare, Taylor headed inside, following Alec who'd already unlocked the door to the loft. A few seconds later found her next to the kitchen counter using their land line to dial her home number. Glancing behind her as she waited for the phone to ring, she noticed that Brian was waiting nearby with arms crossed, while Alec had already gone to his room. Of Rachel, there was no trace, so she was likely in still outside with her dogs.

The phone in her hand barely rang once before her dad answered, "Taylor! Is that you?"

Keeping her voice calm, she said, "It's me, Dad. Sorry I didn't call you earlier, but we've been glued to the TV for the last few hours, watching the feed from the helicopters."

There was both anger and relief in her dad's voice as he said, "We'll talk about you not calling me later. For now, I just want to know if you're all right?"

"Dad, I'm fine. I'm not anywhere near where all of that went down. I'm really sorry I didn't call you."

"Give me your address so I can come pick you up."

Giving Lisa a desperate look, the blonde took the hint and grabbed the phone out of Taylor's hand. "Danny?"

"Yes, it's Lisa. How are you doing?"

"I promise that Taylor's fine. She's more worried about how you'd react than what went down earlier."

"Yeah, I'm keeping an eye on her. Sorry we got so caught up in watching the news that we forgot to call. Look, I can give her a ride home, but it would really be better if she just spent the night. There's no reason you need to worry about getting out this late."

"What's my address? 11200 Kingman, apartment 206."

"Yeah, I know it's on the other side of downtown where everything went down. That's why I thought it would be better for her to just stay here with how screwed up traffic is. It would take hours for either of us to make it across town right now, assuming we could even get through all of the roadblocks. Plus, you probably have to work in the morning."

"Yeah, sure. I'll drive her home tomorrow before rush hour traffic starts up. I figure if I swing over by the boardwalk and drive up alongside the bay, I'll miss all of the torn up streets Downtown. How's that sound?"

"Yeah, okay. We'll see you tomorrow morning for breakfast. I actually like my eggs scrambled though. Thanks, Danny."

Taylor stared at Lisa, who had a smug smile on her face as she hung up the phone. However, there was a wistful note to the blonde's voice as she said, "I really like your dad. Anyway, he's cool with you spending the night."

Brian, who had been silently standing on the other side of the living room, asked, "Seriously, Lisa?"

Lisa shrugged. "Coil's still out there. We're safer with Taylor here."

He pointed out, "She doesn't even have most of her gear."

Taylor decided to speak up. "I can make more. If anyone has some old clothes they can afford to lose." Suddenly lowering her voice, she whispered, "Lisa, I'm going to need to borrow another pair of underwear."

The brief grin the blonde sent her way contained all of the wickedness in the world. Aloud, Lisa said, "Brian, calm down. Taylor's staying. Now back off so that she can take a shower and put on some clothes. I mean, she's probably feeling a draft right now."

Taylor almost fainted at the sheer embarrassment she felt. Still, she was aware enough to notice Brian's aura flare as waves of pink clashed with the crimson in his aura. A second later he headed toward his own room without saying another word.

Turning towards the girl who was supposed to be her friend, Taylor hissed, "Okay, what the hell was that?"

Lisa gave her a contemplative look. "You know, for a empath, you still suck sometimes at realizing how someone feels. Go take a shower. You stink. I'll have you some clothes by the time you get out, including something to make more armor from. Okay?"

"Fine."

Taylor headed toward the bathroom, aware that she was still blushing. What the hell was Lisa thinking? Regardless, she was going to _kill_ the other girl once she was finally clean.

Hardly aware that she was humming as she undressed, Taylor turned on the shower.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Brian pulled off his helmet, then kicked off his boots. Unzipping them, he stepped out of his leathers. Finally, he threw on some warm ups and tried to get some rest. But he couldn't stay still and found himself pacing restlessly back and forth in his room.

What the hell had Lisa been thinking pushing his buttons like that? Didn't she realize that Taylor was way to young for him? Despite her tall, slender form, the other girl was only fifteen, while he was seventeen. Plus, she was innocent in a way that he hadn't been in years. She didn't need to have anything to do with damaged goods.

Brian ran a nervous hand over the short stubble on his head. It was bad enough what was happening with Coil, but now he had to deal with a firestorm of emotions. Seeing Taylor nearly die had been difficult to deal with. He still could hardly believe the girl had somehow survived.

Worse, despite how he'd forced any feelings he had for the girl aside, it had been all that he could do not to attack Eidolon after what he'd done. Eidolon! The man would have swatted him like a fly, darkness and all, if Brian had actually carried through with what he wanted to do.

Still, the intensity of his anger and hatred for the other cape for his callousness had shocked Brian. Then, swiftly on the heels of that anger had come relief from finding out that Taylor had survived. The strange welter of emotions that had torn through him at finding out she was alive had allowed him to ignore her state of undress at the time, despite a glimpse of pale, curved flesh before the shirt had finally covered her. Truthfully, he'd barely registered it.

Until just now, that is. When Lisa had pointed out that Taylor was standing there by the counter nearly naked, he'd been surprised by the flash of desire he'd felt, staring at the girl's long, coltish legs poking out from under Alec's shirt. He'd also become aware that the shirt wasn't completely opaque, at least not in the bright lights of their living room. So he'd left.

What the hell was wrong with him? Brian wasn't some kid who could afford to ignore his responsibilities. Especially not now, with the threat of Coil looming over him and the others. He was even considering having Aisha stay here because of the threat of their former boss. It wasn't as if he thought the man would hesitate to use family members against them. Unfortunately, at the moment, he was the only one who was vulnerable as the rest of the Undersiders didn't either weren't close to their families, or didn't have any.

He needed to figure out a path going forward. For now, he was going to ignore the thought of Taylor with her thoughtful brown eyes taking a shower just a few feet away from him. Because if he didn't, he was likely to make a mistake, one that he couldn't afford.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

In one timeline, Thomas Calvert drove to the PRT to provide himself a safe haven. In another, he checked each of his secondary bases on his way to see his pet, discovering that they had each and every one been eliminated by the vigilante known as Carnelian.

Once he asked his questions of his pet and checked with Mr Pitter regarding her health and the continued availability of the drugs that kept her docile, he quickly dropped that timeline, then immediately opened another. In that timeline, Coil left work and drove back to Thomas Calvert's home, using his computer to check each of his bank accounts, including the half dozen hidden ones he'd set up in case of emergencies. All had been drained. It was a brief moment's satisfaction to grab the keyboard and slam it through the computer monitor in a shower of sparks, then tear the tower out of its cubby and throw it through the home office's plate glass window.

He dropped that timeline before the sirens even began to be audible and opened another. In that one, he used the computer to figure out that his human resources had dried up. Payments to back up troops had been missed, leading them to head to other, greener pastures.

Dropping that timeline, he reached out to secondary resources, including compatriots in other cities. The results were not promising. Exactly as the numbers from his pet had indicated, in Boston, Accord imprisoned him when he could not meet the man's ridiculous price for the plan he wanted. In New York, he never got a chance to meet with the Butcher as one of the woman's Parahuman minions cut his throat before he could even make his presentation. The Fallen also dealt with him with equal facility.

In the end, with ever shrinking recourse, Coil could only see two possible outcomes. He could leave Brockton Bay and attempt to establish himself in another city, rebuilding everything he'd accomplished so far from scratch. Or he could attempt to use the PRT and Protectorate to help him recover his funds and enact his revenge. Neither choice had good numbers backing it, although leaving town provided a slightly better overall chance for success at thirty-nine percent to just under twenty-three percent for staying.

Almost, he chose exile. But his pride just wouldn't allow him to leave. Tattletale had crossed a line. He wouldn't feel whole again until he'd shown the little bitch using his own special methods just how big a mistake she'd made. Coil's smile as he considered the many and varied ways he would hurt her, to break her spirit until she was just a shell of a person, was cruel and gloating.

One of his biggest concerns was that the numbers he was getting from his pet, sequestered in a house at the edge of town, continued to show that his chances of success were slowly, but surely declining as time went on. He could not discover the cause as the questions he asked didn't really provide answers.

However, there were a handful of things, that if they succeeded, would help turn the tide. One of the biggest being putting Carnelian and the local Protectorate at odds.

Over the next couple of days, he split timelines again and again. His attempts to drive a wedge between the Protectorate and Carnelian did not bear fruit despite using both his own and his pet's power with profligacy. First, she healed that brat Gallant, something he found out through the last of his agents within the agency. Next, she managed to not only get videotaped saving and healing preschool children, something which made huge waves both locally and nationally, but she also eliminated the source of the explosions that had rocked the city, Bakuda of the ABB.

Finally, she even managed to save the lives of multiple members of the Chicago Protectorate and Wards as well as several citizens in the most recent crisis involving Hydra. That was almost outweighed by the way she somehow changed Hydra back into the girl she'd been before, who was now a guest of the PRT. But even he couldn't find out what was happening in their inner councils.

He'd considered anonymously providing the PRT with the location of the Undersiders' base, but when he ran the numbers by his pet, she indicated that there was only a thirty-two percent chance they would even act, likely a result of his former minion's team up with Carnelian, while the odds of the operation successfully taking down any of their members was less than ten percent. _Damn_ Tattletale to Hell!

From his desk within the PRT Headquarters, Coil stared sightlessly at yet another report on the incident. He could feel Tattletale's noose slowly enclosing his neck, only the deft use of both his and his pet's powers allowing him to stay ahead of her. He knew it was just a matter of time until she figured out who he was. In his earlier arrogance, he'd left her far too many clues as to his civilian identity, something he now regretted.

Unfortunately, surrounded as she was by her team and allied with Carnelian, he simply couldn't get to Tattletale. He needed to split up her group so he could deal with them no more than one or two at a time. He considered several possible strategies, but none of them had just the right mix of effectiveness and cruelty that he needed.

Finally, though, an idea occurred to him. Slowly, a smile equal parts cruel and capricious creased his lips. He knew _exactly_ what he was going to do. And exactly _who_ he was going to do it to. Then it would be up to Tattletale to make her own response.

It took less than a day for him to discover that the odds of him successfully accomplishing his mission were better than ninety percent, while the odds of him being identified as the perpetrator were less than one. Additionally, there was a better than sixty percent chance that this would give him an opportunity for a one on one confrontation with another member of the group.

In one timeline, Thomas Calvert continued to work in his office within the PRT's Headquarters. In another, he left early and traveled to a hidden weapon's cache that was still untouched, where he liberated an automatic pistol and extra two loaded clips. The former he tucked into the back of his waistband, while the latter he tucked into his pockets.

Whistling along with the song playing on his car's radio, he drove over to an address in the upper crust neighborhood of the Sand Dunes far to the south and west of Brockton Bay proper. Parking in the circular driveway out front, he got out of his car, then rang the doorbell.

Thomas drew his gun as he waited. When a woman opened the door, he shot her twice in the face. As he walked into the house past her body, he noted both the surprise on her face and the Hispanic features and uniform. Housekeeper or maid, he decided. Walking briskly deeper into the house, he headed towards the sanctuary that belonged to the head of the household.

Ahead of Thomas he heard a voice call out, "Anita? What the hell was that noise? I'm working in here and I need it to be _quiet_. Plus Angela's lying down upstairs. Anita?"

Turning the corner of the hallway, Thomas noted the man who'd been calling out. An older man, with the self assurance that usually came with wealth, he barely had time to register the thin man's presence when he raised the gun and shot him twice in the torso. He walked up to the dying man and finished him with another round to the head.

Humming the same tune he'd been whistling earlier, Thomas jogged over to the grand staircase. Then he made his way upstairs. He knew approximately where the main bedroom was, at the end of the second floor hallway.

Approaching the door, he opened it to see a huge room dominated by the larger than king size bed along one wall. A slim figure was lying on top of the comforter there, one who called out as he entered, "Stephen, what was that noise? It sounded like a car backfiring."

Not a car, he thought, as he walked over to stand directly alongside the bed. The figure lying there, a blonde woman in her early forties, had her green eyes closed. She opened them when he did not reply, barely having time to register the gun when Thomas put two rounds into her head, one entering through her forehead, the other through her right eye.

He took a critical look around, deciding that the décor was surprisingly tacky for an old money home. Dropping the gun and the unused clips on the woman's body, Thomas whistled _Singin' in the Rain_ as he almost danced his way out of the house, got into his car, and drove away. Halfway back to the office, he pulled off the latex gloves he'd worn and tossed them into a nearby dumpster.

Arriving back at the office, he headed to his office. Assuming there was no evidence that one Thomas Calvert had been involved with a murder, he'd drop the other timeline in a couple of days. He'd be prepared to move on to Grue's family next. In the meantime, he'd watch and wait to see if anyone came to visit them.

Unfortunately, the other two lacked levers of this nature and he'd never learned Carnelian's real name as Tattletale had kept it to herself. Still, it should help divide and weaken his foes. It might even be worth it to launch a frontal assault on their base himself if the opportunity presented. After all, it wasn't as if he could lose, was it?

Besides, it would be _fun_. At least as much as it had been to execute that little bitch's remaining family. With a much lighter heart, Thomas Calvert went back to reading reports.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Colin sat one side of the table, while Director Piggot sat on the other. Her face was utterly blank as she stared at the paperwork in front of her. Since it was the results of his disciplinary hearing for what had happened to Gallant, it didn't bode well.

He reflected upon the time he'd spent in Brockton Bay, some of it good and some of it much less so. Oddly, he'd consider last night a mark in the good column. Casualties had been low, and he'd fought on a level that had been only a step down from the members of the Triumvirate.

Better yet, it wasn't ego talking when he came to that surprising conclusion. After all, he didn't have to worry about being captured by Hydra and having to play it safe. Unlike Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend, he was only a Tinker, any physical accomplishments he had a result of hard work, not powers. So if he had been captured, it wouldn't have made much of a difference in Hydra's general firepower.

At least so long as any clones didn't get away and gain time to actually _build_ something.

Colin felt a sense of pride in knowing that he'd accomplished a great deal with his Tinker abilities. Even if he was demoted and sent to another city, at least he'd have that going for him. Knowing that he'd left the city a little bit better than when he took over and had been able to hold the line against an ever increasingly powerful Parahuman gang element.

As the minutes stretched on, Colin kept his expression impassive. He wasn't sure why the Director was keeping him waiting so long, but he refused to allow it to bother him. He'd accept the committee's decision with grace. After all, no matter where he ended up, he'd still have Dragon to keep him company as well as his Tinkering. Certainly, the new predictive program the two of them were working on together showed a great deal of promise in giving them advanced notice of where the Endbringers were going to-

"Armsmaster?"

Looking up, Colin met Director Piggot's eyes. "Yes, Director?"

She glanced once more at the top page of the report before her, then closed the binder. "It's been the decision of the Committee that you retain your post as head of the Protectorate East Northeast for now. However, a letter of censure has been placed in your file stating that through not following protocols, you did allow harm to come to a Ward under your watch. Officially, I can let you know that any deviations from standard procedures will result in your removal and transfer to a secondary position in another city."

"And unofficially?"

The woman sighed heavily. For the first time, something like a human emotion touched her face. After all, the two of them had worked together for years, and if not always getting along, at least they'd achieved a certain level of understanding. "Unofficially, I'll tell you that you need to be careful. Think before you act, something that I'm aware that you do anyway. Just do it twice now. Because they're going to be looking for a reason to remove you. I personally believe that it was your prompt and decisive actions against Hydra that swayed the committee's decision in your favor. Without that, you would already be gone."

Colin nodded. "Thank you for the information, Director."

Piggot merely nodded. Then she reached over and hit a switch on the side of the table. "Geraldine? Please send in the others."

On the other side of the room, a door opened and three figures shuffled inside. At the front was Miss Militia, followed by Aegis, with Assistant Director Rennick bringing up the rear.

"Please be seated. Armsmaster will be taking the lead in this briefing, bringing us up to speed on our latest information on exactly what transpired last night and the latest results of the testing being done on our 'guests'."

Colin knew by the relieved look in Miss Militia's eyes that she immediately understood the significance of him leading the meeting. As did Rennick, whose sharp glance carried with it an unknown emotion. Only Aegis appeared to not grasp that a decision had been made about his fate. It was a gap in his training, one that he would need to address within the next few days.

Using the interface on his HUD, Colin made a note to do exactly that, no later than Wednesday.

In the meantime, there was a meeting to run.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Noelle sat in the cell, shivering. Not from cold, as despite the faint draft from the room's ventilation, it was temperature controlled to a fault. Instead, it was emotion that drew the physical response from her. She still didn't know what had happened to her last night. Or even during the last few weeks.

She'd been steadily losing herself to the thing that she was becoming. A creature of appetite and destruction, her alter ego had been steadily taking her over more and more, as the girl who had once been known as Noelle steadily languished in an ever darker and more isolated world. She'd had only moments of lucid thought recently followed by frighteningly long descents into darkness and insanity.

Francis had been the only light in that darkness for such a very long time. Their chats had kept her from teetering over the brink, while his jokes and gentle affection had been her only true moments of happiness, as isolated as those had become.

She still couldn't believe that he was dead. Or at least she thought he was. Noelle couldn't remember everything from that time, as much of it felt like a fading dream, but she was pretty sure that much was true.

Francis was dead. And Carnelian had killed him.

Should she hate the other woman, Noelle wondered? She must have at one point as her memories were of a mad rage that had filled her, sending her off in a destructive spree that beggared the imagination. She vaguely remembered toppling buildings and fighting against heroes whose powers should have terrified her. Certainly they did _now_.

Noelle shivered again at the thought of fighting someone like Alexandria. Or Legend. Or the cape that she thought had finally stopped her. Eidolon.

They had been strong beyond belief, powerful beyond anything she'd ever imagined. And they would have killed her in the end. If not for Carnelian.

Carnelian had saved her. That was something Noelle distinctly remembered. Exactly what the other girl had done, she didn't have the faintest idea. But she'd clearly done some _force_ that had not only staved off Eidolon's power, but had changed Noelle back to the girl she'd once been.

Sitting there on the hard bunk with its thin, uncomfortable mattress, Noelle searched for any remnant of the thing she'd once been but couldn't find any. She was clear of the other, nothing of its vast hungers and strange urges touching her any longer. She was just Noelle once again.

She'd even eaten once since awakening, a breakfast that had been plain if filling. Still, she'd relished every bite of the oatmeal, cleaning the bowl completely of its contents. That there hadn't been bacon with her breakfast wasn't even an issue. After all she'd gone through, Noelle was seriously contemplating becoming a vegetarian.

She was even looking forward to whatever they were going to serve for lunch even as a weird, foreign emotion filled her. It took her a moment to understand just what she was feeling.

Hope.

Something that had been absent for so long that she'd forgotten what it felt like to experience it. But it was present within her now. As was something else.

Noelle didn't know exactly what potential lay inside of her now. But there was _something_ , it's presence announced by a restlessness and desire to do. To go out and make a difference. To accomplish _greatness_.

She didn't have the slightest doubt that this feeling was also a result of whatever it was that Carnelian had done to her. Or that the potential had been placed inside of her by the other girl.

However, while imprisoned here, surrounded by containment foam sprayers, tasers, and armed guards, she didn't dare even contemplate experimenting with it. Later, once she was out of here, away from the scrutiny of others, she would do so. She'd find out the limits of exactly what she'd become.

Plus, she'd finally be able to confront the person to whom she owed a debt.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Jess sat on the uncomfortable bed, rubbing her aching legs and glorying in doing so. She'd been trying to walk inside of her tiny cell for the last several hours, and had managed it in a clumsy fashion, as muscles that were unused to moving were forced into motion.

However, the movements had pushed muscles that weren't used to being able to move, resulting in an intensity of muscle aches and pains that were painful to say the least.

Not that Jess really minded. She still couldn't believe that Carnelian had healed her spine when she'd healed her enough to interrogate her about Noelle. It made the entire situation, being able to walk, to feel, much less enjoyable than it would have. After all, feeling like she'd betrayed the girl who had once been her friend wasn't exactly conducive to enjoying her newfound mobility.

Like Judas, she'd gotten her thirty pieces of silver as payment for betraying her leader.

Shivering slightly in reaction to her thoughts, Jess reflected on the events of the night before. A lot of it she didn't remember as she'd been trapped inside of Noelle, fodder for the clones she made.

When she'd awakened, it had been to Carnelian's looming presence as well as prickles and needling sensations from her legs. Nearby had been Marissa and Luke, also laying on gurneys, and equally helpless against the force of nature that had been the enraged vigilante.

None of them had even contemplated using their powers against Carnelian, memories of what she had done to them down in Coil's base still too fresh. There, she had handled them as if they were children, even Krouse's power, one that he had used to escape from the Protectorate all those many months ago, surprisingly ineffectual.

Jess shivered again as she remembered the shouted demands, and worse, the harsh, cold voice that had forced them all to speak their deeply held secrets aloud. To betray Noelle, Krouse, and their own foreign origins.

Surprisingly, there hadn't been any form of judgment or censure in the woman's voice afterward. Instead, she'd merely dismissed them, leaving them to the tender mercies of the surrounding troops while she had gotten onto her flying device and left, moving so fast she'd been a blur.

The three of them, held up to their necks in containment foam, had managed a brief conversation as they'd been transported to their current prison. From Luke and Marissa, Jess had learned that Krouse was dead. Although deathly ill at the time, they'd both been conscious enough to see him die and Noelle's subsequent rampage.

They'd also been aware enough to realize they were being swallowed alive by their erstwhile teammate. Unfortunately, that was the last thing they remembered.

Jess, herself, only remembered the fight, and losing her creation, before there had been some powerful explosion that had apparently brought the building down on top of them. She knew that Noelle must have dug through to where she lay trapped to save her, although why she had bothered was still a mystery.

None of them knew what had become of their onetime teammate. Noelle's fate was a mystery, one that the PRT was not enlightening them on. Truthfully, though, Jess thought she was dead.

Remembering the way that Carnelian had probed for weakness in an attempt to learn everything she could about Noelle so that she could take her down left little doubt in her mind that she would have succeeded in accomplishing her mission. The woman was violence personified.

She-

There has a hard clang from somewhere in front of Jess, then a hard voice stated, "Prisoner Genesis, place your hands and feet in the yellow circles. If you have not complied within twenty seconds, you will be subdued. Prisoner Genesis, place your hands and feet in the yellow circles. If you have not complied within fourteen seconds, you will be subdued. Prisoner Genesis"

Before the first set of commands had even finished, Jess had struggled erect and shambled off to the front of her cell where four yellow circles, two on the floor and two on the wall in front of her, waited. She stepped into the ones on the floor, then leaned an uncomfortable distance forward and placed her hands into the ones on the wall.

So far, she hadn't been tased or enveloped in containment foam, but it had been a near thing twice now. And since she had to do this ever time she was fed or had a visitor, it was a struggle that she wasn't sure she'd always win.

Not that she'd had many visitors so far, just the cold-eyed man from the PRT who had initially interrogated her.

Of course, he'd threatened her with all different types of punishments under the law, but compared to Carnelian, he hadn't been particularly intimidating. Still, Jess didn't think he'd appreciated actually being _told_ that.

In the end, though, she'd explained to him much of what had happened to her, just holding back a few things, like the original home of their group and how they got their powers. From the things he'd let leak, he'd already gotten much of what she said from Marisa and Luke.

The door to Jess' cell opened at that moment, and a woman stepped inside. Jess didn't need to consult her memory to recognize her, as the combat fatigues and American flag bandanna concealing her features made her identity obvious. She'd known of the other before she'd ever been shanghaied into this world.

Miss Militia was in her cell.

In a quietly conversational tone, she said, "You can stand up straight, Genesis."

Jess pushed herself back to vertical with trembling arms, then took a couple of steps back until she was next to her desk. She braced her shaky legs against it, half sitting on the top. She didn't speak, too busy wondering what was going on.

Miss Militia walked further into her cell, apparently completely unintimidated by being so close to a villain. Then again, for someone who fought Endbringers, this was probably a walk in the park. Not that Jess had any overt powers she could bring into play at the moment. Without being asleep, she was just a girl recovering from being crippled.

"Do you prefer to be called Genesis or Jess?"

There it was. Someone had talked even more than she had. At the very least, they'd named personal names. Clearing her throat and trying not to sound nervous, Jess said, "I prefer Genesis."

Miss Militia nodded. "Why don't you have a seat while we talk?"

Jess managed to shuffle over to her bed, leaving the chair by her desk for the Protectorate hero, who sat down a moment later. Staring into the woman's dark brown eyes, she asked, "What do you want from me?"

"Not too much. Mostly, it involves gaining a better understanding of just what your group has been up to the last couple of weeks. Marissa stated that your group has been working for a local villain named Coil, whose name popped up in a different situation. She also mentioned that there was a young girl there. What can you tell me about her?"

What could Jess say about the preteen that Coil had kept drugged, bringing her out every so often and parading her around for everyone to see as if she was some kind of trophy? All she knew was the girl was important to him, but she'd never been told why. Shrugging, she said, "There was a girl. I think her name was Dina. But that's all I know."

There was a strange intensity to Miss Militia's stare as she asked, "Do you know why Coil kidnapped her? Why he was holding her prisoner in his base? What use he was making of her?"

Jess shook her head. "Sorry, but I really don't. I only saw her a handful of times, and never talked to her. Coil never explained what she was doing there. Maybe Trickster knew, but my understanding is that he's dead."

"Yes, Francis Krouse is deceased, killed in the confrontation in Coil's base by Carnelian. Jess, it would go a lot easier on you if you cooperated fully. I'm not going to berate you with the potential penalties for your actions, as I'm sure that Assistant Director Rennick did an excellent job of outlining those in his initial interview. But I will say that you are in trouble. Both Luke and Marisa have already cooperated fully in an effort to gain leniency. Unfortunately, they didn't have any useful information."

"Well, if Carnelian hadn't killed Trickster, maybe he would have helped you!"

If Miss Militia was surprised by the intensity of Jess' accusation, she didn't allow it to affect the eyes or her body language. "Perhaps, if Francis Krouse had lived, he might have been of more help. However, based upon what Noelle has told us, he wasn't exactly the cooperative type."

Stunned by the woman's words, Jess blurted out, "Noelle's alive?"

There was a smoothness to the small pause before Miss Militia spoke, as if she'd done this before and knew exactly how to keep her audience's attention at its peak. "Yes, Miss Meinhardt is alive and doing well."

"How?"

The one word question hung in the air between the two women. Again, Miss Militia allowed the tension to build to almost unbearable levels before speaking, "During the battle, Eidolon manifested a power that would allow him to eliminate Hydra once and for all. However, prior to its use, Carnelian crashed into Hydra at high speed and was enveloped by her. Fortunately, no clones of her appeared for us to fight. A short time later, Eidolon used one of his powers to change Hydra to stone. A few minutes later, the stone crumbled, revealing Carnelian and Noelle, both unharmed, the latter in her human guise."

Jess wasn't blind to the implications that a member of the Protectorate had almost killed an ally, but she was too focused upon Noelle's fate to worry about it. "What about her power? Is she..."

She almost screamed when Miss Militia didn't immediately answer. After a moment, the woman said, "I've given you a fair amount of information for free, Jess. However, in the interests of fairness, I think we should work out some kind of trade. I'll continue to provide you details on your teammates; in return, you answer my questions as honestly and completely as possible."

Feeling like she was making a deal with the Devil, Jess slowly nodded.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

Hannah waited her turn to speak, as the meeting continued. Finally, Director Piggot turned her way.

"What do you have have for us, Miss Militia?"

"After intensive questioning of all of the surviving members of the villainous group called the Travelers, I managed to discover that Coil was holding a young girl with precognitive abilities that was almost certainly Dinah Alcott. She was not present when Carnelian attacked the building, already secreted away by Coil or someone in his employ.

"He had apparently been using her abilities to give himself an edge over the other gangs in Brockton Bay. Unfortunately, however effective this might have been against Empire 88 or the ABB, it did not work against Carnelian, who was able to blow through his security forces and engage and defeat the majority of his Parahuman assets."

Director Piggot frowned. "How was she able to find them when we couldn't do so ourselves?"

From across the table from Hannah, Armsmaster made a gesture that pulled everyone's attention his way. Once everyone was looking at him, he said, "I would think the answer is obvious: Tattletale of the Undersiders. We've narrowed her power down to some kind of pattern recognition or enhanced intuition, which allows her to fill in blanks and draw conclusions from minimal data. If Carnelian has really teamed up with her, whether the rest of the group has disbanded or not, she likely used her power to figure out the location of Coil's base."

Hannah shook her head. "I'm afraid it's worse than that. While the other members of the Travelers did not know all that much about Coil's plans or organization, it appears a certain amount was shared with Francis Krouse, aka Trickster. While he did not survive, Noelle Meinhardt did. Krouse shared a great deal of what he learned about Coil and his organization with her. One of the things that she shared with me was that the Undersiders were working for Coil."

There were frowns from everyone at the table at that statement. Director Piggot in particular, looked like she had just sucked a lemon. "Well, that explains how Tattletale would know where Coil's base was. Of course, the question that comes to mind is whether she and the rest of the Undersiders are still working for him now?"

Hannah suggested, "I do not think she, or they, are. Rather, I believe that the reason that she aimed Carnelian at Coil was because of a falling out between them. She's possibly looking to supplant him in whatever territory he controls."

Director Piggot sighed. "Well, that's a topic for a different meeting. Are we any closer to figuring out what, if any, power that Coil may possess?"

Armsmaster answered this one. "Somewhat. While at first it was believed that the villain known as Coil did not possess a Parahuman ability, Dragon and I, based upon analysis of the operations he has been involved with, have discovered a statistical improbability as regards his success rate."

Hannah leaned forward, interested. Attempting to play Devil's advocate, she asked, "Are you sure this isn't just the result of careful planning?"

Armsmaster shook his head. "While we can't be one hundred percent certain, the numbers suggest that the blip in question cannot be accounted for by planning alone. Instead, it appears to be a result of probability manipulation of some variety. Additionally, when we actually dug deep into the local police and PRT files on crimes within the city, we discovered that a larger than normal number were unsolved or performed by anonymous perpetrators. Together, and digging deeper, we linked a surprising number of those crimes to Coil. He may be more dangerous than we initially believed."

"Actually, that is in line with information I received from Noelle. Apparently, when Coil first recruited the Travelers, he put on a show for their leader, Trickster. According to information she received from him, Coil indicated his power to be one where he always won and demonstrated it by flipping a coin and it coming up heads ten times in a row."

Director Piggot rubbed the bridge of her nose a second, then looked around the table at each of them. "And now he possesses what appears to be a powerful precognitive Parahuman in the form of Dinah Alcott. Has there been any success in pinning down her location now that we know who it is that is keeping her prisoner?"

Assistant Director Rennick cleared his throat, then spoke, "We've contacted all of the standard Protectorate assets. However, each of them, from Eleventh Hour to Future Bent, indicate that their power is being interfered with. So they are unable to locate the girl, other than that she is still within the city."

Hannah mused, "Since it's well documented that Thinker powers often interfere with one another, I wonder if we're dealing with interference from her power or his?"

"It could be either, or another factor entirely. We need to come up with a plan to locate Coil. Armsmaster, work with Dragon and see what you can come up with regarding Coil's civilian identity."

Hannah felt a vague unease at the Director's words. Keeping her tone carefully respectful, she asked, "Ma'am, are you certain this is the best way to go about rescuing Dinah Alcott? Breaking the unwritten rules?"

Director Piggot glowered at her a moment, then grudgingly pointed out, "He broke them first, Miss Militia. He went after an eleven year old girl at her school. As far as I'm concerned, he should receive a Kill Order. However, since we don't know what all he's done to her, I can't swing that. But I can swing going after him wherever and as whoever he is."

The heavy woman looked around the table. "I think that finishes up our discussion on Coil. I would like to direct it now to the Travelers. What is going on with Noelle?"

Hannah nodded for Armsmaster to take this one as he had done most of the testing when it came to the villainous Parahuman. "Noelle Meinhardt, Hydra, is no longer a Parahuman."

"What?" Director Piggot exclaimed as she leaned forward in interest. "What exactly do you mean by that, Armsmaster?"

He shrugged. "I mean, she no longer possesses a Corona Pollentia or any other brain characteristics typical of a Parahuman. Additionally, the powers that she had before are completely gone. I've gone over the transcripts from Miss Militia's interviews and all of the Travelers agreed on just how dangerous her power was virtually from the beginning. It is no longer present.

"However, what _is_ present is some form of ability that Carnelian imbued within her, just as she did with Gallant. I would guess at strength, speed, as well as other physical abilities. I don't know whether it was necessary in order to remove her power and to heal her, but they are definitely there based upon my analysis of her movement. For now, we are treating her as a Brute 6 just in case. We should contact Carnelian as soon as possible to discover exactly what she did."

Hannah's mind was racing. What Armsmaster didn't seem to be grasping was that Carnelian had successfully removed a Parahuman's power permanently for the first time ever. Director Piggot, on the other hand, understand it all to well.

"Right now, I am making this information classified. You are not to discuss it with anyone else under threat of imprisonment. Is that understood?"

After a chorus of 'yeses' from around the table, Director Piggot said, "This information is simply too explosive to let out at this time. If villains were to find out that a violent vigilante possessed the power to permanently remove their powers, making them no more than human, it would likely result in an escalation of violence that beggars the imagination. The last thing we need is this city to become any more of a war zone."

Hesitantly, Hannah asked, "What about all of the other heroes who were present when Carnelian healed Noelle?"

The Director shrugged. "What about them? As far as they are concerned, Carnelian manage to fix Noelle's power, not remove it. Or Eidolon did. While they might speculate, they won't have facts to back up their speculation. I would almost prefer to prefer to send something out for everyone present to practice discretion, but that would just add legitimacy to any speculation. Now, what about psychological testing for the Travelers?"

As the discussion continued, Hannah couldn't help but wonder how long they would be able to keep something like this under wraps. Somehow, she didn't think it would be all that long.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

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 **Topic: Carnelian  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay **

**► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

I still don't think there is enough evidence to suggest that Carnelian somehow neutralized both Eidolon's and Hydra's power. The clip is just too grainy.

 **► Harden** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

Maybe there would have been if the person taking the video hadn't been such a little b**** and shaking like a leaf. **User received an infraction for this post: Don't use insults when speaking of others. Keep it civil, people.**

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

 **Harden** Dude, I don't think any of us would have been calm, cool, and collected with a major cape battle taking place right outside of where they were working late. I'm just glad we have any kind of video at all. After all, nothing official has come out at all other than the offending cape's name. We don't even know for sure what was going on with her vomiting up those people.

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

While true, I think the speculation that Hydra was able to clone anyone she ingested was spot on. That would account for the messed up capes that helped her in the fight. I mean, there is no way there is that many Case 53's out there. Especially, violent, sociopathic ones that are both willing to kill _and_ to die for someone else.

 **► XxVoid_CowboyxX** (Cape Geek)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

I'm just glad that Carnelian was there to save the day. And we got to see her naked! I mean, I- **Welcome to the first day of your thirty day suspension. There is enough evidence that Carnelian is underage that making sexual references to her will not be tolerated. Also, speculation as to a cape's identity is prohibited.**

 **► WhedonRipperFan**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

And the banhammer falls. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy. Still, I don't see how anyone could think that what happened with Carnelian and Hydra was anyone's doing except Eidolon's. I mean, he's only the second most powerful cape in the world behind Scion. Clearly, he cured her. I mean, look at the enhancement done on the video **here**.

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

Come on! You tinhats _know_ better than that! You can't enhance video that crappy without changing the data itself, putting in what you want to see!

Anyway, a lot of people want to believe that because the alternative isn't particularly palatable. I _hope_ that this is the case, but I am prepared for it not being so.

I notice no one's addressed the other elephant in the room. If Carnelian did somehow 'fix' Hydra, did she do it be removing her powers? Or by fixing them? I mean, what do we even know about how _Carnelian's_ powers work? Or what her limits are?

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

 **~Chrome** Thanks, man. I was wondering how long it would be before someone brought that crap to _this_ site. Now we are going to have a couple of hundred pages of people arguing and speculating about this without a single fact involved. Way to go.

 **► Chrome**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

 ** **~Bagrat**** You know it had to happen sometime. Best to just get it over with, like ripping off a band aid.

That said, I live in this city unlike some others. The last thing I want is a major cape war taking place here. Villains can put two and two together just as easily as we can. How long do you think it's going to be before someone makes a play for Carnelian?

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 **Topic: Carnelian  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ►Brockton Bay **

**► Aprils_Fool**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

Come on, guys. Clearly, Carnelian not only negated Eidolon's attack, but turned Hydra human. She's like the scariest thing that has ever existed. I'm just glad I _don't_ live in Brockton Bay.

 **► MessiahOfTheLord**  
Posted on April 24, 2011

This is the time to repent! All of you blasphemers and infidels will pay now! Carnelian's the messenger of God, come forth to rid us of the blasphemous Parahumans! Verily I say, repent! Repent! Rep- **Welcome to the first day of your ban. Additionally, your IP has been logged and banned. Avoid the inflammatory language, people, or else. We're serious here.**

 **► Bagrat** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

~facepalms~ Well this discussion has gone to hell. Thanks again, Chrome.

Calm down, people. I can tell you that there's no city-wide manhunt going on for Carnelian, something I am confident would be happening if she had managed to remove another Parahuman's power. Let's be rational and stick to the facts.

 **► Harden** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

 **~Bagrat** Dude, you know it's only going to get worse. The problem is that you can't really tell what is happening in the video posted **here**. This is one time that it might have been better if the person who took it actually thought before posting it on TubeView. Unfortunately, because of how grainy it is, you can't really tell who did what to who. All you know if that you've got 2 naked girls at the end, one of whom is almost certainly Carnelian, but the other could be anyone, including one of the civilians that were ingested.

 **► Legolas** (Cape Groupie)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

I still say it's definitely Hydra who is the other girl. I mean, if you look at the earlier part of the video, where she's still a monster with a human topper, her hair's the same. It's grainy, but you can see that much.

Plus, those sparkles were clearly Eidolon's attempt to kill Hydra. He turned her to stone for Christ's sake! You can see how everyone thinks the fight's over. Then, when that stone starts shaking and falling apart, they start getting ready to go back to fighting. Then out of the rubble emerges Carnelian with most of her uniform eaten away and a naked girl. To me that spells her last ditch countering of Eidolon's power, as well as curing Hydra of hers. The girl is damn powerful. No amount of naysaying is going to cut it after what I saw.

 **► Counter_Gravity**  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

Legolas You're so wrong. Clearly, Eidolon's real effect was just time delayed. He saved both Carnelian and Hydra. If Hydra totally lost her powers, and wasn't just cured of the monstrous parts of them, he did it. He's the second most powerful cape in the world for a reason!

 **► Harsh_Reality** (Veteran Member)  
Posted on April 24, 2011:

All I keep hearing is the same old crap. I tell you it was it _that_ group that's behind it. They may mostly stay in the shadows, but this time they came out. In spades. Did anyone see a woman in a suit there? Because- **User received an infraction for this post: Push your conspiracies on your own threads. This one is to discuss Carnelian, not your pet theories.**

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Motherfucker, Lisa thought viciously as she finished reading the last post of the thread. It was worse that she'd thought. And coming right on the heels of her figuring out Coil's identity.

Lisa was almost certain that Coil was one Thomas Scott Calvert, formerly of the PRT's Special Operations, who now worked as a consultant to the PRT on a regular basis. It certainly explained how easily he got information from within the monolithic organization. Not that it didn't preclude him from having moles inside as well.

Although not moles he was still paying, she thought viciously. After the way she'd raped his accounts, Coil would be down to whatever funds he had available through his civilian identity, as well as any cash that he might have physically sequestered around the city. Well, other than that twenty-five thousand that he'd had in a rented apartment behind a false wall, she thought, grinning as she remembered scoring that money the other night.

Lisa's grin faded as she considered the problem of just how to take down Thomas Calvert. If Coil did have some form of power that allowed him an automatic win, there was no chance that they could defeat him. Not she she really believed that.

Because if Coil actually did have a power that strong, he would have _already_ been in charge of things. That he wasn't was a strong indication he was lying.

However, lying or not, it wasn't going to be easy to attack the man in his civilian identity. Plus, there was still the girl, the precog, who he was probably using as well to help decide what strategies to use against her.

That was one of the few regrets Lisa had from her days as a villain. It was also something that she didn't want Taylor finding out about, that the Undersiders had served as a distraction so that an eleven-year-old girl could be kidnapped from her home and forced to work for a murderous villain after being forcibly addicted to drugs.

That it could so easily have happened to her was something that also preyed upon Lisa's mind. How did that quote go? There but by the grace of God go I?

So she would make amends by getting Dinah Alcott back to her family. If in the process she managed to kill Coil in order to ensure her safety, that was of the good.

Or rather, if Taylor managed to kill him. She'd replaced the gear that she'd lost last night, while Lisa had watched, both fascinated and mystified by the process. This time, she'd ended up with a silver helmet that matched her boots, while the rest of her gear had been that same neutral gray.

Unfortunately, Lisa had been unable to make heads or tails of how it was all being created and only Taylor's judicious use of her healing rings had kept a crippling migraine at bay. It had been damn frustrating to not know what was going on. Ultimately, even the new helm's power, whatever it might be, stayed a secret.

As had whatever exactly had happened to Taylor while she'd been doing a Jonah. Oh, the mostly sweet girl that she had met at the mall just days before was still mostly there, but she wasn't sure what remained, if anything, of the costumed avenger. Lisa was starting to worry that Taylor might not even be willing to eliminate Coil when she figured out a way to get to him.

Lisa decided to take a moment to check the local news to take her mind off of both Coil and her potential new teammate. Staring at the different televisions that she had on, each tuned to a different station, she listened with only the tiniest part of her attention. After all, her power would do the rest.

Then one news story out of the myriad ones being told caught her attention. With a sinking heart, she recognized the house on the television screen surrounded by dozens of vehicles topped with flashing lights.

~~~~~~Wrath~~~~~~

 **AN:** Next chapter: Endgame


End file.
